Hidden Truths
by Jester of Fortune
Summary: A peacekeeping mission to a neighbouring kingdom does not go as planned and forces Arthur to accept help from an unlikely source. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello again! So this is another story of mine. I hope you guys enjoy it - it is basically complete so I can update fairly regularly. For the purposes of this story, Odin's kingdom is called Bernicia, although what it's actually called in the show, I don't know. Did do some digging but couldn't find any answer.**_  
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**This is not beta'd but I've been over it as much as possible, any mistakes are mine alone.**

**I warn you, there is some general violence and such in this story.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the BBC does.**

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_Keep going. One more step._

_One more step. Keep going._

The agony in his side built until spots flashed across his vision. He blinked and looked down at his stumbling feet, willing them to move and pressed his hand to the wound, muttering to himself trying to get the pain to a more manageable level.

_Keep going._

Nothing happened. But it didn't matter. He had to keep moving. He looked ahead and tried to focus on the back of his king but his companion, oblivious to his plight, had continued jogging on and was too far away for him to focus on properly.

He looked back down at his hand, pulling it away from his side, unsurprised by the mixture of blood and mud. Mud he himself had rubbed down his shirt and trousers to hide the spreading bloodstain from Arthur and Gwaine. He hadn't been sure it would work but neither man had been able to focus on more than escaping the ambush and then it had got dark. Gwaine had offered to lay a false trail and, after a long hushed argument with Arthur, had left them around midnight to do so. Neither knight nor king had questioned his unusual silence or the dark stain on his clothes.

It was just as well. They would only have insisted on slowing down, trying to treat him or something equally foolish. Nothing was more important than getting Arthur back to Camelot. Certainly not his life.

So he had done his best to heal the wound surreptitiously with magic but had been unable to do much other than slow the blood flow. Realising he wasn't going to be able to fix the problem, he had focused on keeping the pain to a manageable level. Unfortunately, he had to keep regularly reactivating the spell but the blood loss and excessive use of his magic all night had left him exhausted and now his magic wasn't responding. Unable to keep the spell going the pain had become almost too much to bare.

_One more step._

But instead of taking the step, his left foot snagged on a tree root and his leg buckled under him, sending pitching forward with an anguished cry amid the fallen branches and leaves on the forest floor.

* * *

THE PREVIOUS DAY

The King of Camelot looked out over the clearing, waiting for the knights of Bernicia to arrive. Judging by the sun, Odin's men were late - it was hardly the most auspicious start to the peace talks between Bernica and Camelot but Arthur resolved not to allow the slight to annoy him. If Odin felt the need to prove his power within his own country, then so be it. If it got too late then he would lead his men to Odin's city without an escort.

He looked over at his men, who were sat on various fallen logs joking amongst themselves. Since this was a peace-keeping mission and he did not want to be perceived to be taking an aggressive force within the borders of Odin's land, Arthur had chosen to bring only four knights with him. Kay and Ulfric were relatively new to the ranks of the knights whilst Gwaine and Geoffrey were both experienced veterans. Gwaine was even sober. And then Merlin rounded out the group, in his role as servant, general dogsbody, physician and unofficial advisor.

Annoyance flared in Arthur as he saw Kay deliberately trip the hapless servant as he walked past him; it was one thing for Arthur or one of the other Round Table knights to play jokes on the king's manservant but that was different. They were Merlin's friends. Kay, Ulfric and Geoffrey were not friends and Kay especially was particularly vocal about his opinion of Merlin, but he always kept the jibes just on the right side of 'jest' that everyone laughed it off.

Gwaine chuckled and punched Kay in the shoulder with a "Good one, mate" - but Arthur could tell from the way Kay winced that it hadn't been a friendly 'tap' at all - before helping Merlin back to his feet.

"Kay, if Merlin doesn't look presentable at Odin's court because you thought it would be funny to trip him up, you'll be the one cleaning out my stables when we get back to Camelot." Arthur called, not bothering to hide his annoyance. Taking off his cloak, he called his manservant over and handed it to him. "Put that in your pack. There's no point in it getting dirty while we're waiting."

Merlin nodded and slung the pack off his back, carefully folding the cloth and placing it inside. "Is there a school where they teach you lot how to be complete prats?" Merlin muttered with a grin, nodding in Kay's direction.

Arthur frowned at his servant disapprovingly; secretly he may agree with the younger man's assessment of Sir Kay but the knight's father was a highly influential noble within the Court and, furthermore, Kay was one of the best horsemen Arthur had ever seen - it would not do to be seen favouring his servant over a skilled and high born son of the Court. Although if Kay's behaviour ever escalated to more than light bullying - which appeared not to bother Merlin in the least - Arthur would have him stripped of his knighthood and out the kingdom before anyone even realised what was going on. Not that Merlin needed to know that.

"It's called nobility, Merlin. Obviously, that's not something you would understand," Arthur replied, his tone suitably gruff and reprimanding.

Merlin held his gaze for a moment, before shrugging, slinging the pack over his shoulder and heading back towards the knights. After a few steps he paused and with a grin, called over his shoulder, "I know wouldn't - that's why I'm not a total clotpole!"

"Merlin!"

Arthur took a step in his servant's direction, intending to cuff him sternly around the back of his head, when with a howling battle-cry, well armed men erupted from the trees and undergrowth surrounding the knights of Camelot. It was a testament to their training that before any of the men had even fully registered the presence of the enemy, they all sprang up into fighting stances, their swords at the ready. But Arthur had no time to be satisfied by his men's quick reflexes before the first of the bandits reached him, swinging a huge axe at his head. The king ducked under the blow and moved forward, shoving his shoulder into the man's hip which, combined with the wild swing, put him off balance and sent him sprawling to the ground. Arthur had no time to finish his opponent off because another bandit thrust a sword at his chest. It was an easy blow to deflect though and Arthur knocked the blade aside, countering with his own upward strike that caught the man across the throat and sent him stumbling backwards.

Arthur had time to glance around to assess the situation before the next attack. Through the mass of black clad bandits, Arthur could see Ulfric slumped motionless across a fallen tree and the way both his comrades and the enemy were ignoring him, it was obvious he was dead. Gwaine, Kay and Geoffrey were fighting close together, trying to work their way towards Arthur but the bandits outnumbered them at least four to one and even as Arthur watched, Kay crumpled beneath a ferocious blow to his head. The king looked for Merlin and relief rushed through him to see his friend still standing and fending off attacks from two different men, although the rest of the band had obviously identified Merlin as the lowest risk because there were no other bandits in his vicinity.

Another sword was swung at his head and once again Arthur ducked but this time aimed his own blow so it struck his opponent's stomach, slicing through armour and flesh and sending the man reeling back clutching the wound.

Suddenly there was a loud cracking sound and Arthur spun around in time to see a huge tree branch fall to the ground, flattening six of the men surrounding Gwaine, who was now, Arthur realised, the last of his knights left alive. The fortuitous branch had provided both a distraction and a gap between the bandits and Gwaine did not hesitate to exploit both, leaping over the fallen men towards his king.

Arthur shook his head and pointed at Merlin, who surprisingly was stood over the bodies of the bandits that had been attacking him. The young king opened his mouth to tell Gwaine to head towards Merlin and run, when he saw his servant's eyes widen and focus behind him. Arthur just saw Merlin start to sprint towards him as he spun on the spot bringing his sword up defensively. But even as he turned, hearing his name yelled by Merlin, he knew wasn't fast enough - the man he had knocked to the ground moments before had picked up a sword from one of his fallen comrades and now thrust it low at Arthur's stomach. Arthur knew he wouldn't be able to deflect the blow and waited for the inevitable.

Instead, Merlin barreled into him from the side and he went crashing to the forest floor with enough force to knock the wind out of him. The bandit seemed equally stunned by this turn of events and stood gaping for a second before recovering his wits enough to hack at the downed king. Arthur, still gasping for air, knocked the blow aside as Gwaine appeared, trusting his own blade into the bandit's neck. The knight let the sword go and bent over, hauling Merlin off his prone master and shoving him in the rough direction of escape. Arthur rolled over and pushed himself up, grateful for the supporting hand Gwaine wrapped around his arm. Gwaine and Arthur looked over their shoulders at the same time and saw the remaining bandits charging towards them.

And ran.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all! Here's the next chapter - I warn you this has some angst in it! Anyway, thanks to all the people who favourited and alerted this story and special thanks to **ruby890** and **Rivka16** for their kind reviews.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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PRESENT

Arthur turned around at Merlin's pained cry and jogged over to his fallen servant. "Come on, Merlin," he muttered, gripping his friend's arm to help him to his feet, "stop being such a girl and get up. We'll rest when it gets dark."

A weak moan was the only response and Arthur shook Merlin a little roughly, once again demanding he stop laying around.

"Sorry Arthur," Merlin mumbled. "I'm coming." The servant weakly tried to push himself up but his legs and arms gave out on him. Merlin apologised again and tried once more to get up; this time however, Arthur spotted his servant's torn jacket and a dark stain that spread from his left hip halfway across his back and down to his left knee. Arthur frowned, anxiety suddenly gnawing at his stomach, and knelt down, putting his hand on Merlin's back. He turned his hand over and his palm was covered in blood.

"What happened?" Arthur demanded, as he pulled Merlin's tattered jacket out the way so he could see the wound.

"'M fine. Can make it." Merlin said feebly, still trying to stand.

"For God's sake, Merlin, stay still!" Arthur ordered harshly, worry making him rougher than he intended. He finally succeeded pulling the sticky cloth from the wound and what he saw caused him to sit back in shock. There was a gaping hole about a hand-span in length piercing straight through Merlin's body and running horizontally to the side, almost as if someone had tried to cut him in half. It had been caused by a sword judging by the smooth edges of the wound - it had been cut rather than torn; but there was only one time when his servant could have been injured in such a way and Arthur realised he had been wrong to assume that Merlin had shoved them both out the way when the bandit had been about to kill him. Instead Merlin had saved his life and taken the blow that had been meant for him. How he'd been able to run so far and for so long, Arthur had no idea, it must have been agony.

Anger flooded through him. The stupid idiot had kept going without telling him he'd been hurt and letting either Arthur or Gwaine to patch him up.

_You can't patch something like that up._

He pushed the thought away. He needed to get them somewhere safer, then he could have a better look at the cut and come up with a plan for getting both of them back to Camelot. Carefully, he rolled Merlin onto his back, ignoring his friend's moan as he did, and slid one arm under his shoulder, the other behind his knees and stood up, setting off in the direction of Camelot.

Five minutes later and Arthur stumbled out of the tree line and onto the bank of a lake. It seemed vaguely familiar to him and he hoped that meant they had finally crossed into Camelot's territory. If they were lucky then the bandits would either have been drawn away by Gwaine's false trail or they would think twice about crossing the border - Camelot was known to be one of the most patrolled kingdoms in all of Albion and that might deter them.

There was the ruin of a small cottage near the water's edge that might provide some sort of shelter and hide them from any unfriendly eyes, so Arthur headed in that direction and carefully put his servant down. In his haste to get moving, Arthur hadn't noticed Merlin still had the pack on his back so now he quickly unslung it from the younger man's shoulders and shoved it under his head so it acted like a pillow.

Looking around for danger, Arthur pulled his sword from his belt, taking comfort in it's familiar weight and the elegant writing etched into the blade. He placed the beautiful sword next to him so it wouldn't hinder his movement but would be close to hand if needed and turned his attention to examining the gash in Merlin's side. From the front the wound was actually worse than from the back; mud and grit had gotten into it and it was clearly infected, with blood still seeping out freely.

Arthur took a shuddering breath. This was far beyond his ability to heal. Merlin needed Gaius but at best, Gaius was at least two days away.

_He won't last that long. You don't survive wounds like that._

No. Merlin was going to be fine. All he needed to do was get him to Gaius. So, he would clean the wound as best he could, bandage it with whatever cloth was vaguely clean and available and then they would get moving. He lifted Merlin's head off the pack slightly so he could open it, pulled out his cloak - that was bandages sorted - and a water-skin. The pack was less pillow-like now but it still kept Merlin's head a little off the ground.

Arthur was ashamed to see his hands were shaking slightly as he pulled the stopper out the water-skin. He didn't want to admit it but he was scared; bandits and fighting he could handle but he knew nothing about medicine and he was terrified his ineptitude would lead to Merlin's death. Arthur mentally shook himself for having such self-pitying thoughts. He was the King of Camelot and kings had no business being weak. He took a steadying breath and poured the water over the wound.

The reaction it caused in Merlin was both spectacular and terrifying. The moment the first drops of water touched the gash, Merlin's eyes flew open and he howled in pain. Arthur was stunned by his reaction but the king's reflexes were not dulled in the least and he simultaneously dropped the water-skin and clapped his hand over Merlin's mouth to muffle his scream.

"Easy Merlin! Easy!" Arthur said intently, looking directly into his manservant's rolling eyes. "Look at me. Come on, look at me."

Merlin blinked twice and took several shuddering breaths, focusing on his master.

"You have to be quiet," Arthur said, removing his hand. "All right?"

"Sorry Arthur," Merlin croaked.

"It's fine," Arthur responded, sitting back, "I thought you would sleep through it."

"Where?" Merlin asked, looking around blearily.

"I'm not sure. Somewhere in Camelot. I think."

Merlin sighed, "Shouldn't have stopped. Leave me."

Arthur frowned at his friend, annoyed, "I'm not leaving you here, Merlin. I need to get you back to Gaius. Besides, if those bandits found you, they'd kill you."

Merlin met Arthur's gaze. "They already killed me, Arthur," he said, softly.

Fury shot through the young king. "Shut up, Merlin. You're going to be fine. I just need to get you back to Camelot."

"Please...You need to get back to Camelot. Go," Merlin pushed against his master feebly, trying to sit up, the movement sending waves of agony though his body.

"No," Arthur stated harshly.

"Why not?" Merlin asked. "Your life is worth...a thousand of mine."

Arthur looked into his friend's eyes and realised he believed every word he was saying. The idiot would willingly be left behind to die alone if it meant Arthur might have a better chance of making it back to Camelot. The anger that had flared within him so suddenly disappeared leaving only a deep ache and a sorrow so strong it was almost painful. Arthur gently pushed his servant back down and carefully covered him in his discarded cloak.

"You're wrong, Merlin. Your life is worth no less than mine," Arthur said, ignoring the way his voice broke slightly. "You're my best friend. My only friend. And I meant it when I said I couldn't bare to lose you."

Merlin grasped his master's arm at the elbow, "I'm sorry, Arthur."

"Don't..."

The two men lapsed into pained silence and Arthur felt frustration and helplessness building within his chest. He wanted to punch something, _do_ something. But there was nothing for him to do, no battle for him to fight. His brave idiot of a servant was right: with such an injury the bandits had killed him as surely as if they had ended his life in the clearing. Arthur had seen similar wounds on the battlefield and not one of the knights had survived.

Merlin groaned and gripped Arthur's arm tighter. He coughed weakly and this time dark blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"I wanted to see - " He broke off, gasping as pain lanced through his body, "I wanted to see the kingdom you would create more than anything and I would have served you for all your days."

"Don't do this, Merlin," Arthur begged, tears welling in his eyes.

"Don't let my mother find out through a letter...please."

Arthur shook his head and gripped his friend's hand where it was still wrapped around his arm. "I'll go myself, Merlin. You have my word."

"Thank you," Merlin closed his eyes for a moment and drew a deep breath before opening them again. "Serving you...has been the greatest honour of my...life."

"Being your friend has been mine," Arthur replied, heedless of the tears now rolling down his face.

"Remember...listen...don't be...a prat," Merlin gasped. He managed to grin and Arthur couldn't help but laugh although it sounded more like a sob.

"I'll do my best."

Merlin nodded, closing his eyes and slowly his grip on Arthur's arm loosened and slid away, falling limply to his side.

"Merlin? Merlin!" Arthur called, shaking his friend but there was no response and the younger man's head just lolled lifelessly from side to side. "No..."

Arthur felt no shame as he cried over the lifeless body of his friend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Next chapter. Thinking I'll double post since I'm not so keen on this chapter. Thanks to **Procrastination Is My Game **for the review.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

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The king did not know how long he had remained by his friend's side but it was getting dark by the time he felt capable of anything other than grief. In the end, a voice in his head that sounded disturbingly like Merlin's, nagged at him to get up and move but he couldn't just leave his friend to the mercy of wolves and any other hungry animal. If nothing else, the boy deserved a burial. In Camelot, servants and commoners were normally buried in the lower town, although as a member of the royal household, Merlin would have been entitled to burial within the castle grounds themselves. Nobles were usually given the more honourable burial by fire - either by pyre or ship and had their names entered into the Records of the Dead. Arthur wished he could provide his friend with a better resting place than an unknown part of the forest but there was no way he could carry him back to Camelot, however when he did return to his kingdom, Arthur vowed he would see Merlin's name entered in the Records - an honour that had not been afforded a commoner in over a century. Still, he could not just leave Merlin but he had no way to digging even a shallow grave.

A grave. Gods. How could he be thinking of digging a grave for Merlin? It was so wrong. It felt like half of him was missing - as if something vital that made him Arthur had been brutally stripped away. He could almost feel his father's disapproval for feeling such a way about a servant but he pushed it aside; since becoming king, Arthur had realised he was not his father. He was a friend to the people he ruled, not just a master; he forgave those who betrayed him more readily than Uther; his closest friend and advisor was his own manservant; and he had married a servant, raising her to the position of queen. He was not Uther and the more he had tried to emulate him, the worse his decisions had been. It had been Merlin who had made him realise that he needed to be his own man and that by itself would be enough to make him a good king. Such simple advice and yet without it, he would have lost so much.

Arthur forced down the sob that threatened to rise from his chest. Now was not the time for grief. Now was the time for action. Carefully covering his friend's face with his cloak, Arthur lifted Merlin's body and carried him to the water's edge. He could not provide the honourable burial Merlin deserved but he could at least lay him to rest near the lake, something he thought the younger man would have liked. For someone who was clumsy and ungainly, Merlin was an oddly proficient fisherman and strong swimmer with a fondness for lakes and rivers.

Carefully Arthur covered his servant's body with rubble and stones until not even a flash of red from his cloak showed through the cracks. He wiped his gritty, sore eyes with the back of a shaking hand and drew a deep breath.

"Farewell brother," he whispered, placing his hand on the burial mound for a moment before forcing himself to his feet.

"Well, would you look at that?" said a smug voice behind him. "I was right - the other one left a false trail for us!"

Arthur turned around slowly, instinctively reaching for his sword and grasping nothing but air. The sword he had pulled from the stone was lying in the rubble of the cottage where he had left it earlier. Mentally, Arthur cursed himself for leaving it behind but there was nothing to be done except make the best he could of the situation. Even unarmed he was a better warrior any of these ruthless cutthroats. Admittedly, the situation did not look good. They had surrounded him, cutting him off from any escape route or his sword, leaving him with the option to face ten heavily armed men at his front or attempt to escape in the lake at his back. Neither was likely to be successful and so the choice was simple: Face his enemies head on and die with honour.

Arthur changed his stance slightly and pounced at the closest of the bandits. He slammed his chainmail covered elbow into the man's face feeling the bones of the bandit's face shatter under the impact. His opponent collapsed and Arthur quickly picked up the fallen sword, readying himself for the onslaught but the leader of the band just smirked and shook his head.

"Hakkor!" He waved his hand lazily at the king, and one of his men pulled a crossbow from behind him and took aim. Arthur could do nothing but wait for the arrow that would end his life. But the shot did not strike him in the chest but instead buried itself deep in his leg and it was surprise as much as pain that caused him to cry out as his leg crumpled under him.

The leader sauntered over and kicked the fallen king's sword away, "Don't worry, my Lord, you have a while to live yet."

With an unpleasant grin he swung the flat of his blade at the side of Arthur's face. Pain exploded through the king and blackness followed.

* * *

It was a strange sensation. Like floating in warm water and flying through the air all at once. But it was peaceful and quiet. He smiled and let himself enjoy it.

"Merlin," a soft voice whispered close to his ear. "Merlin, open your eyes."

He didn't want to but there was something compelling about the voice, so he obeyed, lifting heavy lids reluctantly.

"It's good to see you again, my love," Freya said, smiling. "I only wish it was not like this."

Merlin frowned, confused, "Freya? Where am I?" He looked around but saw nothing but inky blackness.

"Nowhere," Freya replied, shaking her head slightly, "I halted your journey to Avalon for a short time."

"Avalon? I'm dead?"

"Yes," she confirmed sadly.

"Oh," Merlin considered the concept that he was dead but found it really didn't bother him. After all, what could he do about it now? "Never mind." He shrugged.

Freya reached out and touched his cheek. "Many feel as you do when they make this journey; but ask yourself: Is this truly what you want?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he responded. "If I'm already dead..." He trailed off. Something nagged at the back of his mind, something important, but every time he tried to focus on it, it slipped from his grasp.

"What about Arthur?"

Merlin's stomach lurched. He remembered little from before he came to be floating in the darkness of the afterlife but there was one thing he did know - a truth that permeated through to the very core of his soul - nothing and no one was more important than Arthur Pendragon.

"Is he alright?" he asked worriedly.

She shook her head. "The half cannot live without that which makes it whole. He could not bring himself to leave you and..." Freya paused. "Odin is consumed by hate and loss. He will kill Arthur but he will take days to do it and your friend's suffering will be beyond imagining but such is Odin's rage that even that will not be sufficient to slack his hunger for revenge. Without you, the glittering future the two of you were to build will crumble to dust and only war and death will remain."

Panic bubbled up within Merlin, chasing away any remaining sense of calm. "I have to help him!"

Freya gripped his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "You are more than the most powerful warlock to have lived, Merlin; you are magic and nothing, not even death, can oppose your will. You have the ability to Mirror Life and Death even now. Use it!"

"But the balance..."

"My last gift to you, my love," said Freya tenderly. "I was granted the immortality of Avalon within the Lake because of your kindness - take it and save your destiny."

"Freya, no. I can't."

"You must!"

Merlin was torn by the choice before him. He could either take the life of the only woman he had ever loved for himself and save his best friend, or he could abandon his friend and finish his journey to Avalon, cursing the world to darkness and suffering. Both options were terrible but he knew which he would choose, even though he hated himself for it.

Nothing was more important than Arthur Pendragon.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Do not be sorry for accepting something that is freely given," she replied, embracing him.

Merlin closed his eyes. He had to do this no matter the pain caused him; he had sworn to protect Arthur whatever the cost because Arthur was his destiny and his friend. Slowly, he felt Freya fade in his arms and the peaceful, silent darkness began to give way to the sound of birds and wind between trees and a crushing feeling across his chest.

Merlin's eyes snapped open burning with magic and the stones covering him exploded outwards. He sat bolt upright and drew a deep breath, savouring the fresh air.

And as the wind rustled through the trees, Merlin swore he heard a voice carried up on it.

"Farewell, my love.


	4. Chapter 4

**Next chapter!**

**As ever, I own nothing.**

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Pain and regret were Arthur's constant companions. For two days he had been dragged deeper into Bernicia until finally Odin's fortress loomed before them. It was then that he realised this was Odin's doing. There were never to be any peace talks. This had been planned and these were not bandits but Odin's own knights, stripped of livery.

His captors had laughed and patted each other on the back, dispersing once they had entered the citadel until only Hakkor and Grimnir, the leader, remained, shoving him roughly through the castle and into the throne room. Grimnir had swung a vicious kick to the back of his injured leg and he had dropped to his knees before a smug-faced Odin.

The king of Bernicia gloated, taking a great deal of satisfaction in his victory over Camelot's king but eventually grew bored when Arthur refused to react. But the betrayal and humiliation were not over; Odin gestured to the back of the throne room and to Arthur's horror, Morgana stepped from the shadows with a satisfied smirk.

From then, Arthur's days were simply a blur of agony. Morgana dedicated hours to his pain, using all the dark magic she had at her disposal and Odin had involved himself a few times, fists and knives being his main sources of entertainment. It was only at night that both witch and king seemed content to retire and leave Arthur to fade in and out of consciousness, suffering the after effects of Morgana's ministrations. He dreamed of home, of his wife and good times spent in the company of friends but when he awoke there was only pain and the cold darkness of the cell where he spent his nights and despair would grip him.

He knew he would never see Gwen or Camelot again but he was glad that kingdom would at least have a wise and kind ruler in Gwen; his people would not suffer overly from his demise. Morgana and Odin would kill him eventually - the only question was how long they would take to it. Part of him was ashamed to give in and simply wait for the end but his leg was now so infected that it continually burned and he was unable to put even the slightest weight on it.

Escape was impossible.

The only thing that gave him any vague comfort was the thought that he might be reunited with his father and mother in the afterlife. And Merlin. If the boy thought he was going to get out of his chores that easily he was sorely mistaken! But even as he allowed himself such comfort, his sister's cruel threats returned to haunt him. She had spoken at length about how she planned to bind his spirit as a Wraith, forced to do her bidding and unable to journey to his ancestors. He prayed these were empty threats but there was a triumph in her eyes that made him wonder.

The sound of the lock sliding back and his cell door swinging open pulled him from his thoughts and he raised his head, peering through his one good eye to see which of his tormentors was back. But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

"You!"

* * *

It was dusk when Merlin made his way through the lower town, keeping his head down and his eyes lowered. With his torn and muddy clothes and timid appearance no one would think him anything more than a peasant looking for work; which was exactly the impression he wanted to give. People noticed strangers and if this town was anything like Camelot, then news there was a new person in town would reach the guards' ears by the morning. That was fine - he had no intention of being in the town when the sun rose tomorrow; but if there was anything even remotely exotic about him, then the guards would know of him within a few short hours and that would cause serious problems for his rescue plan.

It had taken a great deal of willpower to wait until dusk to enter the town. He had arrived a couple of hours before but had remained hidden in the forest until the light began to fade. People tended to be less observant after a long day of work and were more willing to overlook strangers coming to the city. Furthermore, whilst he would be able to enter the town without difficulty, to get into the castle grounds and the dungeons would be nearly impossible without the cover of darkness. So he had waited and hoped he was not too late.

Odin's citadel was located on an island in the centre of a huge, fast -flowing river which served as a natural moat. Although the town covered both sides of the river and was connected by two large bridges, the fortress itself had only one entrance and that was an heavily guarded drawbridge. Merlin nonchalantly wandered along the river bank trying to see if there was another way to get to the island. But even in the dark, he could make out the closely packed stakes pushed into the island's steep bank - even if he made it over the river (and with the speed it flowed that would not be guaranteed, despite him being a strong swimmer) then it would be too traitorous a climb. No, it looked like he would have to would have to try the much riskier tactic of walking in the front door.

He ducked behind a small cottage and swung the pack from his shoulders, pulling out a set of robes he had found hanging outside a shack on his way through the forest and going over the words of the aging spell, which he seemed to be using with alarming regularity, in his mind. He wished that such deception wasn't necessary but in order to save Arthur, he would need magic and if he ever wanted to return home and continue protecting his king then Arthur could never know his servant was a powerful warlock. Once, he had looked forward to the day Arthur lifted the ban on magic, to the day he would be free and his best friend would know him for who he really was. But he knew such a day would never come. It was his destiny to help Arthur unite Albion and return magic to the land but it was not his destiny to live without secrecy. Arthur had developed some serious trust issues in recent years: the discovery that Morgana was his sister, her subsequent betrayal, his father's death at the hand of the first sorcerer he had ever asked for help, his uncle allying himself with Morgana and finally, discovering his fiancee in the arms of one of his most trusted knights on the evening before their wedding, had all served to make the young king wary of placing his trust in anyone. These days, if he wanted advice, he would ask one of the knights or Gwen but in the end he always looked to Merlin to advise him. Not that he ever admitted that was what he was doing.

Merlin remembered one night, after a long feast, he had helped a rather drunk Arthur back to his chambers (Gwen was bidding the guests goodnight) and the king had been prattling on about something (the merits of dog racing over chicken racing?), slurring his words outrageously with his arm slung across his servant's shoulders. Merlin, who was stone-cold sober, was having a hard time keeping a straight face but he replied with "Hmm" and "Of course, sire" at regular intervals. Finally, they reached the king's chambers and Merlin dumped his master on the bed, before offering him a goblet of water. Arthur accepted the drink, scrubbing his face with one hand.

"I'm drunk, aren't I, Merlin?"

Merlin grinned, "Yes, sire. Very."

"I hope I didn't make a complete prat of myself."

"No more than usual," Merlin assured him.

The drunk king tried to cuff his insolent servant around the head but Merlin, having not drunk the entire contents of a tavern, easily dodged out the way and Arthur toppled off the bed only to be caught by his servant and pushed back onto it.

"Careful, Arthur - I don't think Gwen would appreciate it if you broke your face."

"You're a good friend, Merlin," Arthur said suddenly serious. "Sometimes I think you're the only person I can trust."

"You can trust Gwen and the knights," Merlin replied soothingly.

Arthur nodded slowly, closing his eyes. "Yes. But you're the only one I _know_ I can trust."

The king had fallen asleep then and Merlin had returned to his own room but he could not sleep. All the times he had imagined telling Arthur of his magic, it had only ever revolved around one issue: whether magic was banned or not. If Arthur found out whilst he was still hostile to magic, then he faced execution or banishment; if Arthur had lifted the ban, then everything would be fine. But that night, Merlin had realised how naive he'd been. Arthur had placed his faith utterly in Merlin and he would never be able to forgive his servant for lying to him throughout the course of their entire friendship. Even if he did not order Merlin's execution, he would not allow the younger man to remain in Camelot. The thought of being banished from his home and losing Arthur's friendship was far worse than the thought of keeping his magic secret for the rest of his life.

So that night he had resolved never to tell Arthur the truth about himself, no matter how much it tore him up inside.

The sound of a nearby door slamming pulled Merlin back to the present and he uttered the words of the spell that would make him eighty years old. Within seconds the spell had taken effect and he stood up, knees cracking, wishing (not for the first time) that the spell only made him _look_ old, rather than actually making him old.

Oh well. He had a destiny to protect and a prat to save.

* * *

The guards watched him approach warily but only barred his way when he reached them.

"What business do you have here, old man?"

Merlin cackled, automatically falling back into his 'Dragoon/Emrys' persona. "I've come to see the king."

"Seek an audience in the morning like everyone else."

"He'll want to see me now."

"Really? Is that so?" the guard replied, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Yes," Merlin said, leaning forward threateningly, "and if he finds out you made me wait..."

The guard raised his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with the crazy old man before him. "Come back in the morning."

"So you don't think King Odin would be interested in information regarding a certain foreign king he has locked in his dungeons?" Merlin shrugged and turned away. "Very well."

He started to walk away and his heart sank. The guards were not convinced and the gamble had not paid off. He did not want to use force to get into the castle because then he would have to fight his way to Arthur and back out again. Too much could wrong with that plan but it looked like he was not going to be left with another option. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and focused his magic, feeling the heat build behind his eyelids.

"Wait! Old man, wait!"

Merlin opened his eyes and shoved his magic back down. Seriously, they needed to quit the 'old man' stuff. "So you've decided it might be a good idea to let me in, eh, boy?" he said, turning to the guard.

"I'll escort you to the king," the guard replied, ignoring the blatant jibe.

Merlin had anticipated this and nodded in satisfaction. It would be easy enough to knock the guard out once they were in the castle and then he could focus on finding Arthur


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to **MizukiKobayashi**, **StarWritingFlute200** (no, it's gone.), and **Darkmiror** (I'm glad you have so many questions - I hope you enjoy the way I answer them!) for your reviews.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nothing at all!**

* * *

There was a handy guard-sized cupboard stood in a nearby alcove and having stuffed the now unconscious man inside, Merlin turned his attention to working out where exactly the dungeons were. No two castles were built the same, although it would be reasonable to assume they would be on the lower levels - the question was how to get to the lower levels.

"Aetíe Artur Pendraca," Merlin whispered.

Almost instantly a thin golden trail weaved in front of him, leading down the corridor. He didn't know if the spell worked even if the subject of the search was dead but the fact it worked at all gave him hope. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he followed the trail. After a few moments it twisted to the left and down a set of stairs to a deserted corridor. Merlin hurried along, cursing his aged knees, following the golden thread as it wound through various corridors until it disappeared down another set of stairs; halfway down Merlin heard voices and froze, waiting to see if they got closer. They didn't so he crept the rest of the way down until he could peer around the corner.

It was a small room, dimly lit by a single torch and empty except for a table and two chairs which were occupied by a pair of guards. They were chatting amiably to each other and clearly not paying much attention to their job. There were two exits from the room but from where he was, Merlin couldn't see what either led to but thankfully, the trail flowed passed the guards and into the doorway furthest from the stairs. Clearly, that was the way to Arthur but he needed to get rid of the guards.

"Swefaþ nu!" he murmured, holding out his hand and projecting his magic at the two unsuspecting guards. The men looked at each other for a moment before collapsing noisily onto the table.

Grinning with satisfaction, Merlin stepped into the room and headed through the door indicated by his spell. The corridor was dark and silent, except for the occasional dripping of water.

The door the spell led him to was thick oak, reinforced with iron bars and a heavy lock.

"Tospringe!" At the sound of the lock sliding back, Merlin drew a deep breath to brace himself for what he might find within, "Leoht." Light infused the corridor, revealing it to be built from dark, rough-hewn rock covered in moss but he paid little attention to his surroundings as he pushed the door open.

Slumped in the corner of the small damp cell, his arms chained above his head was the King of Camelot. His boots and shirt were gone, ugly welts and cuts covered his feet and torso and as he raised his head, Merlin was shocked to see his right eye was swollen shut and a deep gash ran from his temple to his cheek.

Fear and anger warred for dominance within the warlock. Odin would pay for treating his master and friend this way. Arthur was one of the most decent and noble men to walk the earth and to see him disrespected in such a way ignited a fury within Merlin that he had not known he was capable of - the fate of Niumeh would be nothing when Odin faced his wrath. Equally though, the suffering his friend had obviously gone through tore at the younger man's gut and guilt tugged at his conscience - if only he had been quicker he might have spared Arthur some of this torment.

He took a step forward, his lips forming his friend's name when Arthur jerked forward and growled. "You!"

And then Merlin remembered. He was Dragoon, not Merlin, and Arthur would neither want nor appreciate his help. Forcing down his emotions, he walked over to the restrained king.

"I see you remember me, lord King."

"How could I forget the man who murdered my father?" Arthur growled, tugging feebly at the chains. "I should have guessed you would be working with _her_."

"Her?" Merlin asked in confusion, but seconds later it dawned on him that there was only one person to whom Arthur could be referring. "_Morgana's_ here?"

"Please," Arthur replied scornfully, sinking back against the wall and letting his chin drop to his chest. "Don't try to pretend you didn't know. Is every sorcerer in the land going to come here for their revenge? Why don't you just get on with it then?"

"I'm not here to harm you - I'm here to rescue you."

Arthur laughed humourlessly and raised his head. "Why would you want to do that? You killed my father, you tried to frame my wife for your crimes..."

"I do not have to explain myself to the likes of you!" Merlin said arrogantly, cutting across the king. "I will rescue you from the witch's clutches with or without your cooperation!"

Arthur recoiled at his outburst and closed his mouth with an audible snap. Merlin was glad he'd managed to shut his master up but it would be hard to get Arthur out of here if he was going to be difficult. Although he could always fall back on his compliance spell - that had been both effective and hilarious last time he'd used it - but ideally he wanted Arthur aware and capable, not dependent and moronic. First though, he needed to examine the myriad wounds covering the king's body. Kneeling down, Merlin could immediately see a jagged hole in Arthur's leg that was clearly infected and the cuts to the soles of his feet were not fairing much better. There was no way he would be able to walk out of the cell, never mind back to Camelot, with such grievous injuries.

"Stay still," he ordered. "I can heal the worst of these."

"Get away from me!" Arthur ground out. "I don't want anything from you. Certainly not your filthy sorcery."

"You, Arthur Pendragon, are in no position to stop me. Your servant is right - you're a total clotpole! Stop being a stubborn fool!" Throwing the light in his palm up so it hovered above them and left both his hands free, Merlin turned his attention back to the injuries. Arthur gasped slightly when the light hovered near him, so Merlin waved it away so it was closer to him instead.

"Sorry. I know it's bright."

Arthur shook his head but stayed silent and Merlin took this to be his consent to be treated. He focused on Arthur's infected leg and whispered a healing spell; hopefully it would work first time - he didn't need his credibility damaged in front of his mule-headed king. Healing was not his forte and his spells failed more often than they worked; happily however, this time the spell worked and he felt his magic respond, burning away both the infection and the wound. Taking a deep breath, he did the same to Arthur's shredded feet and once more, his magic obeyed, leaving nothing of the injuries behind except faint scars. He was about to go for broke and try to heal the gash on Arthur's face when the warning bell sounded loud and clear throughout the castle.

"We have to go!" he said urgently, placing his hand on the manacles around the king's wrists. "Tospringe!" The chains fell away and Arthur slowly lowered his arms, wincing as he did but he never took his eyes off the warlock. For a moment, Merlin thought he was going to attack but suddenly he looked away and pushed himself up, swaying unsteadily. Automatically, Merlin put a hand out to steady him but Arthur batted his arm away, impatience and disgust etched across his features.

"Let's just get out of here, shall we?" Not waiting for a response, he pushed past Merlin and headed out the door, one arm wrapped around his middle.

Merlin quickly followed him out and found him comparing his feet with those of the unconscious guards. The larger of the two was about the right size and the king quickly removed the man's boots and pulled them on. He looked longingly at the chain-mail but there was no time to undress the guard, however there was time to take the fallen man's sword.

Shouting mingled with the tolling bells, the sounds of running feet getting closer. Clearly they needed to get out of there quickly. Both men ascended the stairs but as they reached the last few steps, they came face to face with ten or so guards and more re-enforcements on the way. Without missing a step, knight and warlock turned about and headed back down to the dungeons.

"So this is your great rescue plan is it?" Arthur demanded.

"Well it's better than you were doing!" Merlin retorted, looking around desperately. There was nowhere for them to go - they were trapped. The first wave of guards appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Arthur dropped into a fighting stance, sword at the ready. Merlin sent them flying with a flash of his eyes and was amused by the startled look on Arthur's face. "Keep them busy," he said. "I'll see if there's some way out of here."

Arthur nodded and waited for the next wave of guards. There was something about the old sorcerer, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. All his experience and upbringing told him not to trust him, not to believe a word out of his mouth and yet he automatically found himself following the old man's lead. Despite everything, he felt that he could trust Dragoon. Arthur shook his head. He had no place putting his trust in anyone. If the past had taught him anything, it was that his judgement of character was severely flawed; the one and only person he had ever placed his trust in wholly and had not flung back in his face was Merlin. And Merlin was gone.

More guards appeared at the bottom of the stairs and some of the others that had been thrown against the wall by Dragoon picked themselves up and joined their fellows but they did not attack. Even as Arthur wondered why they hesitated, Morgana arrived in the dungeon, a smirk on her face.

"Ah, Brother! I am surprised - I thought I'd broken you," the smirk dropped from her lips. "I'll just have to try harder next time."

"There won't be a next time, Morgana," Arthur stated calmly.

"No? If I wanted, you would already be in chains, begging to see your little servant-girl. Do you really think you can stop me?"

Arthur opened his mouth to respond but before he could, Dragoon appeared from the shadows of the cells and cut across him. "No, Morgana, he could not. But I can."

Fear flashed across Morgana's face and she shrank back towards the guards. "Emrys! How can you be here!?"

The old sorcerer took a pace forward and Morgana took another back. "You should realise by now, Morgana, I am always watching. And whenever you try to hurt him, I _will_ stop you."

"Why? Why do you persist in saving him?" Morgana demanded, pulling herself together. "He would have you and every sorcerer, every child with magic in the land executed. How dare you betray your own kind in this way? You, of all people, Emrys, should join me. Together we could end his tyranny; we could bring Camelot to its knees and return magic to the world!" Morgana held out a pleading hand, "Do you not wish to live freely and without fear?"

The old man looked away and Arthur braced himself for the inevitable betrayal that was to come.

"I want that more than anything," the old sorcerer said sadly. There were years of loneliness and fear wrapped up in his words and despite himself, Arthur felt a moment of pity for him. Magic was clearly evil but maybe not all those who had it started out evil. Maybe it corrupted them over time and that, combined with the fear and persecution they suffered throughout most of the Five Kingdoms, was what turned them bitter and twisted.

"But what you are doing is _wrong_, Morgana!" Emrys stated. "You, of all people, had the chance to show him magic could be good. Instead, you betrayed your family and your friends. You killed your father, you have tried to kill your brother and his wife, your best friend. This world is of your own making! He is the Once and Future King and against such a destiny, your petty vengeance is nothing!"

Without warning, he flung out his hand, his eyes flashing gold and Morgana flew backwards into the guards behind her. The attack galvanized Odin's men and some of them charged forward, only to be hurled back. Arthur never even got close to landing a blow.

"I need you to hold them off while I get us out of here," Emrys said as he disappeared back towards the cells.

Arthur backed into the corridor and faced the guards. Thankfully the narrow entrance acted as a bottleneck, so it would be hard for them to overwhelm him but the moment Morgana woke up, then he was sure he would be in trouble. He dispatched several men in quick succession, dodging various counter-attacks and ending another man with a quick blow to his throat but a well-timed hack caught Arthur on his left shoulder, sending him staggering back with his hand clamped over the cut. With no armour or indeed, cloth, to protect him, the blade had bit deep into the muscle and blood poured from the wound. Arthur had enough time to realise he could not move his fingers before there was a massive explosion behind him and he was knocked off his feet. Emrys hurried to his side, pulling him to his feet with surprising ease.

"Tófiel nu!" Emrys shouted and the corridor ahead of them collapsed inwards, crushing the fallen men beneath rubble and mortar and cutting the others off. "This way!"

Arthur stumbled alongside the sorcerer, who slung the king's good arm over his shoulders and helped him climb over more rubble at the end of the corridor. There was a huge hole blasted in the wall of the dungeon and beyond it, the night sky and freedom. Arthur smiled - at least he wouldn't die caged like an animal in Odin's filthy cells. Darkness pushed at the edges of his vision and he felt lightheaded. For a moment there was nothing but blackness and peace...

A stinging blow to his cheek, pulled everything back into focus suddenly and he focused on the concerned face of the old sorcerer. "Oh, no you don't! Don't think I went to all that effort just so you can die on me!"

"Sorry," Arthur said meekly. They were at the bottom of a steep slope, next to the fast flowing river that surrounded Odin's castle. There were sharp, brutal looking stakes covering much of the slope and Arthur frowned. "How on earth did you get us down here?"

"We slid. You're much more amenable when you've fainted like a girl."

"I did not faint!"

"You fainted. I've done what I can for your shoulder right now but I'll have to look at it later. First, we need to get over this river."

The town on this side of the river was densely packed, with no walls to protect it. The forest through which Grimnir and Hakkor had dragged Arthur stopped only a few paces from the first house. If they could get to the other side of the river, it would be an easy enough task to escape and hopefully lose their pursuers in the forest. After that, it was a few days march to Camelot and safety.

Unfortunately, the river was too fast for young healthy men to swim, never mind an injured one and a doddery old man.

Emrys took a deep breath and held out both his hands, staring intently at the rushing water. "Ea, þu sláwest. þone winterdæg hércyme. Fríesest ætstende!"

Before Arthur's astonished eyes, a section of the river in front of them slowed to no more than a crawl and as if caught in the depths of the harshest winter, began to freeze over.

"Come on," Emrys said, pulling Arthur up, "we must hurry."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So, this is quite a long chapter but hopefully that won't be a problem ;) Thanks to **starwater13** (I'm glad you liked the light), **Redzik**, **Ruby890**, **TheRangersArrow**, **MoonlitIvy**, and **lordstarlight.** I'm glad you've all enjoyed it so much!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

The two men hurried through the forest in silence; only once had Arthur asked where exactly they were headed and Merlin had assured him they were heading to Camelot but first they were going somewhere they could rest for a few hours. It was a testament to how tired, cold and pained the king was feeling that he just nodded and fell into step next to old sorcerer. They had managed to grab a thin shirt from a clothes line in the town but it did very little to keep out the cold of the night.

It took a couple of hours and by the end of it, Merlin was aching all over. How Gaius managed to do so much each day without complaining, he had no idea. It felt like the hairs on his head ached! Finally though they came to the cave he'd passed when he had been on his way to Odin's fortress. There was nothing special about the cave except it was fairly large inside and well concealed by low-hanging branches and ferns - in fact the only reason Merlin had noticed it was because he tripped over a loose stone near the entrance and gone sprawling into the cave itself.

"We can rest here," he said, gesturing for Arthur to go inside. The king gave him a suspicious glance but did as he bade. It was pitch black in the cave, so Merlin created a light once more and had it hovering around he while he collected twigs from the floor for a fire. He noticed that once again, Arthur was staring at the light with a strange expression on his face but Merlin couldn't figure out if he was offended or comforted by it, so kept quiet.

"We need more wood than this for a fire. I'll leave the light here and get some," Merlin said. He received no response, so took that to be agreement and went out.

Arthur barely noticed Emrys leave the cave, his attention was so firmly fixed on the floating ball of light hovering in the middle of the cave. He knew that light. He would never forget it for as long as he lived. It had saved him from the spider creatures when he had gone to get the Morteus flower. Someone had sent a light - he knew that - after all, lights didn't just appear from nowhere but if that were true, then Emrys - Dragoon - whatever his name was, had been the one to save him all those years ago. It made no sense though - the old man had tried to frame Gwen for sorcery, he had killed Uther but at the same time he clearly wanted Arthur alive for some reason. And there was what he'd said to Morgana back at Odin's castle; obviously Emrys and Morgana were enemies and he was in the middle of their war but how and why was beyond him. Well, this was his opportunity - he would get some answers from the man. He was so sick of people manipulating him and trying to use him for their own ends.

The sorcerer returned with an armful of wood which he quickly arranged within a circle of stones. With a nervous glance at Arthur, he looked back at the logs and, eyes flashing gold, the fire burst into life and straight away, Arthur could feel the heat from it. It was strange that Emrys had used more magic in front of the him than he'd ever seen before in his whole life, and yet the old man seemed to be nervous about using it to light a fire. Arthur went to hold his hands out to warm them but only his right arm moved, the left remained limp by his side. Emrys shuffled over and sat down next to him, picking his arm up and gently moving it. Arthur was dismayed to realise he couldn't feel the movement at all.

"You do not feel that?" Emrys asked. Arthur shook his head, not trusting his voice. "It looks like the sword severed the nerves. I will do what I can, but I am tired."

Mumbling under his breath, Emrys placed his hand over the gash and again there was the unnerving flash of gold in his eyes but instantly Arthur felt a tingling sensation in his fingers, still when he tried to move them they remained immobile.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Emrys apologised, looking exhausted. "I will try again later."

Merlin leant back against the wall and closed his eyes. He was so tired and it was hard to control his magic when he was that tired, especially when he as trying to heal such a bad injury. To be honest he wasn't even sure he could do it when he was feeling his best - healing magic was not where his talents lay. Still, he had to try. Arthur could not lose the use of his shield arm; without it he would no longer be able to train the knights, tournaments would be a thing of the past and, worse, he would not be able to lead his own men into battle. Excelling at fighting was much of what Arthur based his self-esteem on, without it Merlin knew he would be a broken man. He would just have to try again later.

"Why did you tell me your name was Dragoon, but Morgana called you Emrys?" Arthur asked suddenly.

Instantly on his guard, Merlin replied, "I have many names."

"But which is your real one?"

Merlin hesitated but finally answered, "Emrys."

"Then why did you tell me it was Dragoon?"

"Maybe because at the time you were holding a sword to my throat and threatening to skewer me!" Merlin responded angrily, "What business is it of yours what I call myself?"

"You were trying to get Gwen killed!" Arthur said furiously.

"You really can be an idiot," Merlin muttered. "Tell me, my Lord, did I actually enchant you to fall in love with Gwen?"

Arthur shook his head. "Of course not."

"So you don't think it was very convenient that I showed up, admitted to having enchanted you - which you clearly hadn't been - and got Uther to release Gwen?"

"You're telling me you meant to get caught? You lied to my father?"

"Yes."

"Why would you do that?"

"Ummm, let's see..." Merlin paused for dramatic effect. "Maybe because he was going to burn an innocent woman for no other crime than being in love with you! Maybe because I know how important she is to you!"

Arthur recoiled slightly but Merlin could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw, he hadn't finished. "So if it wasn't you, who really did frame Gwen?"

Merlin sighed. Arthur really could be as dense as a plank of wood sometimes. "Well," he said condescendingly, "who else do we know who would have wanted Gwen dead and you shamed in front of your father? Someone who just happened to be out riding with your father in the exact spot where you and Gwen met?"

"Morgana?" Arthur almost shouted. "She did that?"

"Yes."

It made a terrible kind of sense, Arthur had to admit. After all, although Morgana had said all the right things, never once did she beg their father for clemency. The previous time Gwen had been sentenced to she had fought the king tooth and nail to get her maidservant released but this time, she said had protested her maidservant's innocence when it was required but there was an emptiness to her words. And now he knew why. Although he'd known that his sister had been working against them since before she was taken by Morgause, it had never occurred to him that the old sorcerer was innocent and Morgana to blame for Gwen's plight. But then why...

"Why did you kill my father?" he demanded.

"I did not," Merlin paused, reflecting on one of the worst moments of his life. It had been his greatest opportunity to show Arthur that magic was not evil, that it could be used to save people and he had failed. If he hadn't been so nervous, so eager to prove his worth to the prince then he might have picked up on the enchantment emanating from amulet around Uther's neck; instead he had blundered in and it was his magic that had killed his friend's father. "At least, it was not my intention to do so."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" Arthur replied scornfully.

"Believe what you will, my lord King. But why would I want to kill Uther? You had promised me everything I have ever wished for - I had only to save your father," Merlin drew a deep breath. "No. It was the witch and your uncle who betrayed you and your father."

"It's convenient that you lay the blame at my uncle's feet when he is dead and Morgana is unlikely to ever tell me the truth about anything."

"Gah! I do not need to justify myself to you! When you get back to Camelot, ask Gaius - he'll tell you the truth."

That stopped the king short. The old man would not bring Gaius into the conversation unless he was sure that the physician would back up his story; and already Gaius had admitted to hiding the old sorcerer because he had not been responsible for Uther's death. But if that were true, if Emrys really had saved Gwen and he had honestly tried to save his father, and he had saved Arthur from the creatures under the Morteus tree, then that meant all he had ever done was protect Arthur and the people around him. And logically, that meant Emrys was not evil. Suddenly, he was back to the one rebellious thought that had plagued him on and off for most of his life: What if not everyone with magic was evil? What if his father was wrong and he had persecuted and murdered innocent people?

Arthur dropped his chin to his chest and ran his good hand through his hair. What was he supposed to do with this kind of information? He wished Merlin were here, the boy would have been able to help him sort out his jumbled thoughts. Merlin would have instantly had an opinion on the sorcerer and would not have bothered to keep it to himself. But Merlin was gone and not for the first time, Arthur felt a great aching sorrow at the loss of his friend.

* * *

Merlin tried to rest but could not. The conversation with Arthur kept going through his mind. For so long, he had wanted to tell his friend the truth about what really happened to Uther but he had never really believed he would get the opportunity. Now he had explained his side of the story to Arthur, he felt strangely unmoved. The king had not completely believed him but Merlin could tell Arthur had not dismissed his words outright. Part of him believed what Merlin had told him, but years of hating and fearing magic could not be undone in a few moments.

He needed to prove himself to Arthur. Somehow, Merlin knew, this was his last opportunity to change Arthur's view on magic. He might never be able to tell his friend the truth about himself but he could tell him the truth about magic. Prove that he was loyal to the king and Camelot. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.

But he had to try.

* * *

Sometime later, the fire was beginning to die down and Arthur offered to collect more wood although with only one working arm he had to make several trips to bring back a sufficient supply. On the last trip, he came back and found the old man looking for something at the back of the cave. Keeping a wary eye on Emrys, he piled some more logs on the fire and returned to his place next to it. After a couple of minutes, Emrys limped over holding something wrapped in cloth and knelt next to Arthur.

"I cannot make you believe the things I have told you, Arthur Pendragon," he said solemnly. "I know you have suffered greatly at the hands of magic and I wish it had not been so. But I hope, in time, you will see that not all those with magic use it for ill. Until then however, I wish to return something to you, as a token of my allegiance and loyalty to you." With great reverence he removed the sword Arthur had taken from the stone and offered it to the confused king, hilt first.

Arthur reached out and took the offered blade, holding it up to look at the writing on the blade. "I had thought I would never see this again."

"The sword is yours, Sire. It is for you and no other."

Looking into the sorcerer's eyes, Arthur could see desperation and fear but there was no dishonesty in his gaze. He truly meant what he said. "You saved me from Nimueh, all those years ago. I recognised the light you sent. How long? How long have you been protecting me?"

"Since I discovered who you were. It is my destiny and my duty to protect you. I have always been close."

"That's what you said to Morgana...you said you were always watching."

Merlin nodded, nervousness building inside his chest. This was it. He could feel it in the air - Arthur was on the cusp of accepting Emrys as an ally. There had been no bargaining, no promises to be broken between them. If Arthur could accept him as Emrys then they could begin to bring magic back to the land, his destiny would be fulfilled and the time of the Once and Future King would truly be upon them. It was here and he felt like he could almost reach out and touch it.

Then Arthur frowned and looked away. Merlin felt the moment snatched away from him like a physical pain and suddenly Arthur swung the sword up and held it to Merlin's throat.

"If that's true, if you are always watching...why didn't you save Merlin!?" Arthur growled, rage wrapped in every word. "You've saved me many times but you didn't save the one person who actually deserved it!"

Confusion and shock were the only things Merlin could register. How could he explain his inability to save himself? He couldn't, not without exposing his lies. And for a brief moment, he considered it. Just telling Arthur the truth and letting the dice land where they would. To stop hiding behind lies and half-truths. But he couldn't. Even if Arthur did not kill him then and there, their friendship would be broken beyond repair and that was something Merlin could not face.

"You should have saved him over me!" Arthur whispered. "He was the one who truly deserved to live."

"He was just a servant," Merlin replied, confused by Arthur's outburst. Did Arthur not understand? After all this time, after all the people who had sworn to die for him, did he not understand he was more important than any of them? That his goodness and nobility were what the world needed to escape the shadow it had fallen under.

Arthur pressed the blade deeper against the warlock's throat, drawing a trickle of blood. "He wasn't just a servant! He was my friend! He was like a brother to me!"

Merlin's stomach dropped at Arthur's words. Over the years they had joked that had things been different, they would have been friends - the irony being that they were friends despite their relative statuses and positions in life. But in his arrogance, Merlin had always assumed that Arthur's fondness for him was like that of a master and a particularly loyal dog; that his grief over his servant's death would be nothing compared Merlin's had their positions been reversed. But he was wrong. Arthur was as lost without him, as he would have been without Arthur.

"I'm so sorry, Arthur. If I had been there, then I would have done everything in my power to save him," Merlin said earnestly, desperate to try and salvage the good will he had felt building between him and Arthur.

The king stared at him, his gaze furious. "But you said you were always watching...that you were always close," Arthur said dangerously. "So where were you?"

Merlin held his gaze, swallowing shallowly, conscious of the blade digging painfully into his neck. "And so I am. But I also just a man and you took great pains to ensure that no-one knew of the peace-talks. You kept the route completely secret and it was not until long after you left, I even knew you were gone." Nervously, he reached up and gently pushed the sword away from his neck and was relieved when Arthur let him, "I am always near but surely you must realise I cannot live in Camelot."

"Then how did you know where the sword was? Where I was?" Arthur asked, although some of his anger had clearly ebbed away.

"When I discovered you had left Camelot, I started to follow your trail. Odin's men had already captured you by the time I arrived at the lake - that was how I came by your sword. If I had arrived earlier, then I would never have let them take you," Merlin paused, unsure if he should continue. "And...I would have done what I could for your servant."

Arthur could hear the truth in Emrys' words; and it made sense that the old man could not live in Camelot - he would have been discovered and executed long before now. No matter how much easier it would be to blame magic for Merlin's death, the blame lay squarely at his own door; if he had not made Merlin come with them, he would never had been at the ambush and in a position to dive in front of a blade meant for his master. But it was worse than that. He had not made Merlin do anything, he had simply assumed the boy was coming because he always did. Uther had never travelled with servants on secret and potentially dangerous missions. Guards, yes. Servants who could not defend themselves again a tree-root, no. Yet he had brought his friend with him, deep into an enemy's country and never even noticed when he was gravely injured.

Despair welled within him and he dropped his sword on the ground next to him, before resting his head in his good hand. "I should never have brought him."

"From what I know of your servant, Sire," Emrys said cautiously, "even if you had left him behind, he would have just followed you anyway."

Arthur couldn't help the huff of laughter that the sorcerer's words caused. "That's probably true. Silly idiot never could follow orders."

Merlin looked away from his friend, guilt gnawing at him still. It was wrong of him to leave Arthur grieving over him, when he was in fact sat opposite alive and well. But he had no choice - to save Arthur, he had to be Emrys, not Merlin.

It was with a guilt-ridden heart that Merlin announced: "It's almost dawn, my Lord. We should leave."

Lost and defeated, Arthur stood and faced a new day.

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**Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So this is the next chapter! Thank you to **swedenarashifan**, **Darkmiror**, **Lady Willamina**, **herbert942**, **bluespiritgal **(and for your PM as well!), and **anonymous guests** for your reviews! I hope you continue to enjoy the story! Since a lot of people have mentioned it, I'm not sure this will be a reveal fic, I'm leaning towards no though...I just think it works better without the reveal at the moment.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

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It was a glorious spring day, a warm breeze rustled through the leaves of the trees and the sun glinted off the weathervanes and windows of Camelot's many towers. As Gwaine emerged from the forest, the noon bell began to ring and for a moment it almost seemed as if it was calling him back, welcoming him home. He quickly dismissed such fanciful thinking - obviously he'd spent too long outdoors! Still, he was glad to be home. What a strange concept that was to him, even after so many years. Here he was a knight, like his father, something he'd never planned or intended, and settled in one place. When he was younger he would never had imagined either as a possibility; but there was something about Arthur and Merlin, something that drew people to them and inspired loyalty.

As he walked into the lower town, he felt a rush of affection for his adopted home. People were milling about, guards were patrolling the main streets and teams of builders were laying down flagstones on the old mud road. This was one of Arthur's new projects: Stone roads, he said, were better for drainage, business and health; they were easier to clean and meant there was less chance of houses in the lower town being damaged by heavy rains - often the mud foundations would wash away and take the house with it. Hopefully, this would not happen so much when the project was complete.

Finally, Gwaine reached the palace and headed for the council chambers. At this time of day, that was where Arthur was mostly likely to be (the knight refused to consider the possibility that Arthur and Merlin had not made it back to Camelot safely), he would give his report, take a long bath, get a change of clothes and then pay a visit to The Rising Sun and get horrendously drunk.

He pushed open the door to the council chambers and felt his stomach lurch when he saw Gwen sat at the head of the table. Although she usually sat in on most of the council meetings because Arthur valued her opinion, she only ran the meeting if Arthur was away. The councillors and queen all turned to look at him in surprise. So many expressions passed over Gwen's face in the few seconds it took her to see him and take in his muddy and disheveled appearance, that Gwaine would have laughed if it hadn't been for the seriousness of the situation. Quickly the queen's expression settled into worry and she was out of her chair and across the room before Gwaine had time to blink.

"Gwaine? Where are the others? Arthur? Merlin?"

"I thought they would be back by now, my Lady," Gwaine replied, "We were attacked by bandits in Bernicia. Only Arthur, Merlin and I escaped. We split up so I could lead them off Arthur's trail. But that was nearly a week ago - they should be here." At Leon's questioning glance, Gwaine shrugged, "I went via Lot's kingdom."

Gwen closed her eyes and put out a hand to steady herself on the table but when she opened her eyes again, they were clear and determined. "Leon, I want you to organise search parties. Every part of the forest between Camelot and Bernicia is to be scoured for the King."

"Yes, your Highness," Leon responded with a slight bow. "Should the parties enter Odin's land in the search?"

The queen paused and Gwaine could tell she wanted to say yes but eventually she shook her head. "No. Relations between Bernicia and Camelot are strained as they are. Arthur would not want us to jeopardize the peace he's trying to build. Send a messenger to Odin, ask him to search his side of the forest and request permission for our search parties to cross the border."

"At once," Leon quickly left the chambers, hurrying to do his queen's bidding.

"I think we must postpone the rest of this meeting, gentlemen," Gwen said.

The councillors all stood and shuffled out. Gwaine turned to go himself, he needed to find Leon and get assigned a search team, when Gwen put her hand on his arm to stop him.

"Were they well when you last saw them, Gwaine?" she asked, only a slight tremble in her voice betraying her fear.

"Yes, Gwen. They were both fine."

Gwen nodded. "We will find them," she stated with determination. "I want to you rest Gwaine. You can join the search tomorrow."

"I'm fine. I should be part of the search: Arthur is my king and Merlin is my friend."

"Maybe, but as your queen, I am ordering you to rest."

Gwaine gave her friendly, but slightly mocking bow. "Very well, my Queen."

The dark-haired knight turned away and left a very worry looking queen watching his back.

* * *

They were finally back in Camelot's territory. Arthur recognised the part of the forest they were travelling through and it would only be one more day before they emerged from the tree line and see the white towers of the city rising before them. It looked like they would make it home in one piece. Well, almost one piece, his arm still refused to work properly, although the tingling feeling in his fingers was becoming more and more frequent - something that Emrys had assured him was a good sign. Apparently, it meant the nerves were still working but they would just take a long time to heal. Arthur had asked how he knew this, since he wasn't a physician, and Emrys had suddenly become anxious as if what he had said was incriminating before yelling something about being an old man and knowing things.

Arthur was confused by his travelling companion. The old man was clearly a powerful sorcerer and had not hesitated to use magic to save them both from Odin's men, yet he always seem nervous about using it for more minor things. Furthermore, sometimes he would answer questions in a civil and calm way but when a question caught him off guard or seemed too probing he became unreasonable and offensive, which made Arthur wonder if the crazy old man routine wasn't just an act to avoid answering questions he did not like. Clearly, the old man was hiding something, which in and of itself was not surprising, that was sorcerers did, they lied; Emrys though, obviously wanted Arthur's acceptance and approval and was desperate to show his trustworthiness. So it seemed odd that he would be so defensive about such innocent questions.

"Are you afraid of me, Emrys?" Arthur asked suddenly.

Emrys stumbled slightly and Arthur put out a hand to steady him. After a long, probing look Emrys continued on through the forest and Arthur assumed he wasn't going to get an answer, when suddenly the sorcerer stopped and turned back to him.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Emrys frowned. "Because you hate magic and I have it. I want nothing more than to protect you and Camelot, and to live my life without fear. You are the one person who can make that happen. Or you can execute me and take it all away."

"Is that why you're doing this?" Arthur asked. He felt strangely disappointed in Emrys, like he had expected more from him. Of course he was only helping in the hope of ingratiating himself with the king, it was the best way of trying to get the laws on magic changed. Against his better judgement. he had found himself liking the old man (when he wasn't calling him a cabbage-head, or something equally offensive) and he had hoped there was more to Emrys' motivation than simple self-interest. He should have known better. No one could truly be trusted and certainly not a sorcerer.

"No! When will you understand?" Emrys said intensely, stalking over to stand in front of the king. "Everything I do is for you, Arthur. Whether you accept magic or not, I will always try to protect you. It is my duty and my destiny."

"How touching," Morgana said, stepping onto the path ahead of them, "Do you really think he will thank you, Emrys? When you get back to Camelot, do you think he'll let you stay? Or do you think he'll have you tied to a pyre and burned faster than you can blink?"

Merlin shook his head. They were so close: One more day, two at most and they would have made it back to Camelot.

"What happened to you, Morgana?" Arthur asked, slowly drawing his sword, "What did I do to make you hate me so much?"

"Oh, I'm not sure, brother. Maybe it was something to do with you wanting to have me executed simply for existing."

Arthur shook his head sadly. Morgana was so consumed with hate that she was blind to everything else around her. It was heartbreaking to see how the girl he had grown up with, who he had loved like a sister long before he had ever known she was, had turned into the bitter and twisted shadow before him.

"I would never have let any harm come to you."

"Really? So when Uther handed out a death-sentance you would have what? Begged for mercy? Broken me out of the cells?" Morgana mocked.

"Yes. If it was necessary."

The witch laughed cruelly. "Forgive me if the idea of banishment, when I should have been the rightful heir to the throne, does not comfort me. Anyway, we both know that Uther would never had stopped hunting me. He could never let it be known that a child of his had magic."

"So you killed him?!" Arthur yelled. "You killed our father because of something he might have done?"

"My, my, Emrys," Morgana chuckled, turning to Merlin who had been slowly edging to her right, "you _have_ been busy. Did you tell him all my secrets? How disappointing."

Without warning, she flung her arm out and Merlin went flying, crashing into a tree with bone-shattering force. "Now, brother, it's time to finish what I started."

Arthur backed away and put himself between Emrys and the witch, bringing his sword up as he did so. No matter his motivation or reasons, Emrys had saved his life and that was a debt that needed to be repaid.

"Leave now, Morgana, before you make me do something we'll both regret," Arthur warned.

By way of response, Morgana held out her hand, palm up and chanted something in the tongue of the Old Religion. A ball of fire grew in her palm and Arthur had just enough time to be both impressed and horrified before she flung it at him. He had no time to duck or dodge out of the way, but out of pure instinct tried to deflect the fireball with his sword. To both his and his sister's surprise, the sword ripped through the fire and it dissipated harmlessly before reaching its target.

"A clever trick, brother," Morgana said, "I think I would like a closer look at that sword." With a flash of her eyes, she ripped the sword from Arthur's grasp and caught it in midair.

"'Take me up'," she quoted, examining the blade, "'Cast me away.' Curious. Now where would you get such a weapon?" At Arthur's stubborn silence, she shrugged, "No matter. It shall end your life as easily as any other blade."

Before he could react, Arthur was dragged by an invisible force and pinned against a tree. Helplessly he watched as Morgana advanced upon him, brandishing his own sword, cruelty and triumph glittering in her eyes.

* * *

From the moment Morgana had touched the sword, Merlin's magic had howled in anguish within his veins. It was like it was trying to tear him apart in its desperation to prevent her from possessing so powerful a weapon. Even as he slowly surfaced back to consciousness, the Dragon's warning echoed through his head; the sword was forged for Arthur alone and in the wrong hands it would cause great evil. And there were no hands more wrong than Morgana's.

Cracking open his eyes, Merlin pushed himself off the ground and called out her name. She spun around, shock written across her features.

"Emrys! Why can't you just die!" She held out her hand, a stream of flame pouring from her palm. Merlin did the only thing he could and quickly created a shield around him to deflect the fire. The shield worked but Morgana did not stop and continued trying to burn him even as she advanced on him, until finally she was within striking distance with the stolen sword.

"You shall not be my doom, Emrys!" she said triumphantly, thrusting the sword savagely at his heart. Merlin had barely enough time to knock her blow off target with his magic before agony shot through him as the sword buried itself deep in his shoulder. From the other side of the path, he heard Arthur yell "No!" and struggle helplessly against the invisible bonds restraining him. He met Morgana's victorious gaze ready to face the end when he felt a shift in the magic bound within the sword; it too had railed against the evil for which Morgana intended it but now, as it touched Merlin's magic, it seemed to calm and mingle with it, spreading throughout his body and pushing back the pain. He felt a power like never before - the sword was magic, forged in a dragon's breath and it had found a magic akin to its own flowing through the warlock's veins. Magic and the power of the Dragonlord, all created for one single purpose: To serve the Once and Future King.

Merlin, his irises burning with magic, clamped his hand over Morgana's on the hilt of the sword, heedless of the pain, and slowly pushed the blade deeper into his shoulder, pulling the now terrified witch towards him.

"Oh, Morgana, when will you learn? Compared to me, your magic is no better than a cheap parlor-trick."

Desperately, she tried to pull away from him but he held fast, reaching out with his other hand to pull out the dagger she kept tucked in her belt. She struggled against him and tried to push his hand away, fear burned deep in her eyes as she began to whisper spell after spell but to no avail. Merlin felt neither satisfaction or pity for her, his mind was so clouded with the purpose for which destiny had forged both him and the sword.

"This is of your own doing," he whispered in her ear as he slipped the dagger deep into her stomach. She gasped in shock and pain and he let her go, feeling nothing as she stumbled away only making it a few steps before collapsing to the forest floor and going still.

And then the sword's magic, its purpose done, retreated back to the blade leaving nothing but suffering in its wake.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update, life has been tedious recently. Thank you though to **bluespiritgal** (thanks for your PM as well), **swedenarashifan** (loved your review!), **Lady Willamina**, **Ruby890**, and **Darkmiror** (hopefully this chapter should answer some of your questions!) for your reviews! So on with the next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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From his helpless place, held fast against a giant oak, Arthur watched the battle between sorcerer and witch believing it to be over when Morgana dealt a grievous blow to Emrys. But then, as his twisted sibling had revelled in her victory, the old sorcerer's eyes had begun to burn a brighter gold than Arthur had ever seen and he had actually forced the blade deeper into his own body before whispering something to Morgana that sent her reeling. It was only as she stumbled away, casting a single anguished glance in his direction, that the king realised Emrys had wounded her - possibly fatally.

As her eyes rolled back in her head and she dropped motionless to the floor, the bonds that imprisoned him disappeared so suddenly that he staggered forward and nearly fell. Arthur regained his balance in time to see Emrys collapse to his knees, the sword still buried near to the hilt in his shoulder. Without casting a backwards glance at Morgana's still form, he rushed to the old man's side and prevented him from toppling completely. Blood seeped freely from both entry and exit wounds and it was clear that Emrys was losing his battle to remain conscious.

"Emrys!" Arthur called, shaking the man. "Don't think you're going to die on me, I want the pleasure of executing you myself!"

Opening his eyes groggily, Emrys focused on Arthur. "Well I wouldn't want to miss my own execution," he muttered. Abruptly, his eyes widened and he pushed Arthur away with surprising strength. "Leave me! Go back to Camelot as quickly as you can!"

"Can you heal yourself?" Arthur asked, ignoring Emry's plea.

"Maybe," Emrys gasped. "Doubtful. Probably not."

Arthur frowned, Emrys was powerful and had successfully healed all the injuries Morgana and Odin had inflicted on him, with the exception of his arm but that was still healing slowly. Why did he not think he would be able to save himself? It didn't matter, the sword could not stay where it was and if he couldn't save his own life, then Arthur would just have to carry him to Camelot and hope Gaius could help him.

"This is going to hurt," he warned the old man, grasping the sword by the hilt.

"What are you doing, Arthur?" Emrys yelped and Arthur paused; for a brief moment Emrys voice had seemed different, familiar somehow. Unable to place it, Arthur quickly gave himself a mental shake, the man was clearly in pain and delirious from blood-loss. People did and said strange things under such conditions. Without further thought or hesitation, the king pulled his sword from his companion's body in a single smooth motion. Emrys howled with pain and blood pumped from the hole left by the blade. Dropping the weapon beside him, Arthur clamped a hand over the gaping wound trying to staunch the flow of blood but it just seeped between his fingers.

"Come on, old man!" Arthur growled. "Do something to help yourself!"

Slowly, Emrys reached over and covered Arthur's hand with his own, muttering his incomprehensible language as he did but there was no tell-tale flash of gold in his irises. He tried again but to no avail. Taking a shuddering breath, the sorcerer said a single emphatic word and this time there was a brief, golden glow in his eyes. As the other man's hand dropped away, Arthur realised blood was no longer forcing its way between his fingers and he dared to move his own blood-stained hand. The flow had not stopped completely but it had slowed considerably.

Emrys blinked owlishly at Arthur, his eyes not focused fully. "That won't last. Healing. Not so good. You should go."

"Whatever you say," Arthur replied, replacing his sword in his belt before tucking his working arm under Emrys injured shoulder and standing up. The old man moaned in pain but Arthur just wrapped his arm around the other man's waist and started to half-carry, half-drag him in Camelot's direction. If he'd had use of both his arms it would have been quicker and easier because he would have just outright carried the man, but he didn't so he was just grateful Emrys was scrawny and easy to support with just one arm. And if that's what it took to get Emrys back to Camelot, then by god that was what he would do!

But before Arthur had made it even a few paces, the quiet of the forest was shattered by the sound of thundering hooves.

* * *

Arthur lowered the wounded man to the ground as carefully as he could and drew his sword, standing defensively over the fallen sorcerer. It was possible the horses belonged to some of his own men (and the king offered up a prayer that they did) but they could also be Odin's men sent to aid Morgana in her search. Either way, Arthur would be prepared.

Moments later, there was a flash of red between the trees and Arthur almost sagged in relief. It was a patrol from Camelot! Five fully armed knights rode out onto the path ahead of him, led by Sir Leon. Arthur wasn't sure if he'd ever been so happy to see someone in his whole life. With a cry of "Sire!", Leon reined his horse in and was out the saddle and by his king's side before the beast had fully stopped.

"Leon!" Arthur said, upending his sword and stabbing it into the earth so he could shake his knight's offered hand. "It's good to see you!"

"And you, Sire!" replied Leon. "Queen Guinevere sent us out to search for you but I had not expected to find you so close to home."

Arthur scowled as he thought of Odin's treachery but pushed the matter aside; he had more pressing matters to attend to. "I need your horse, Leon. I have to get Emrys to Gaius as soon as possible."

Leon looked down at the unconscious man laid at Arthur's feet. "But that is the sorcerer who killed your father, Sire," he stated, confused.

"I don't have time to explain," Arthur said impatiently, returning his sword to his belt once more, "just do as I say."

The older knight bowed his head in acquiescence and quickly did as ordered, helping the king to lie the injured man across the horse's neck. "I'll send the men back with you and follow on foot."

"No. I want you to seize Morgana - or her corpse - and bring her back to Camelot," Arthur ordered, pointing to where his sister had fallen. Part of him was not surprised to see she was no longer there. "Search the woods for her - she was grievously wounded. She can't have gone far."

"Yes, Sire."

With that, Arthur swung his horse around and galloped towards Camelot.

* * *

The king rode hard until finally, by late afternoon he broke through the tree-line to the meadows surrounding Camelot. Never before had the sight of the gleaming white towers, with the vivid red and gold of the Pendragon crest fluttering proudly, high above them, been so welcome. Still, he allowed himself only a brief moment of happiness at the sight of his beloved home and never slowed his pace until he clattered into the castle courtyard. Even as he arrived, Gwen and Gaius were hurrying down the steps to meet him, flanked by Percival and Elyan.

"Arthur!" Gwen cried, rushing over to envelop him in a crushing hug once he'd dismounted. He quickly returned her embrace but pulled away sooner than he would have liked, gesturing to Percival and Elyan.

"Get him down," he ordered, waving at Emrys and the two knights hurried to obey. Arthur turned to Gaius, intending to tell him of the sorcerer's state but the sight of the old physician was like a blow to his stomach. He would have to tell Gaius of Merlin's death, would have to relive it but remain strong, because now he was back amongst his people, he could not afford to show weakness. Grief was a luxury he could no longer allow himself. But should he tell the physician now? Or would it be better to let him tend his patient and tell him later in the privacy of his own chambers, where Arthur could break the news to him gently and his reaction would not be on show for all to see. For there was no doubt in the young king's mind that Gaius would be devastated by Merlin's loss. Quickly, Arthur made his decision - he would tell Gaius later.

"He was stabbed, Gaius," Arthur explained, swallowing the lump in his throat. "He tried to use magic to heal himself but could only slow the blood."

"Sire, this is -" Elyan began.

"I know who it is, Elyan," Arthur said, cutting him off. "He saved my life and he needs treatment."

"Of course, Sire," Gaius responded, rushing to the sorcerer's side and making a swift examination of the wound. For a second, Arthur thought he saw something akin to panic flash in the physician's eyes but it was gone as soon as it came and Arthur put it down to the severity of the injury; after all, he knew that Gaius and Emrys were, at very least, passing acquaintances and it was likely Gaius was concerned for the old man.

"Percival, Elyan, help me get him back to my chambers," Gaius ordered and the two knights did as he said, although Percival ended up carrying the unconscious man by himself, while Elyan followed at his heels.

Arthur watched them until they disappeared into the castle and out of sight. He allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and take a deep, steadying breath. He'd done it. They had made it back to Camelot and if it was possible to save Emrys then Gaius would do it. He was home and he was safe. Opening his eyes, he wrapped his arm around Gwen and pulled her close for a tight, albeit one-armed, hug.

"I was so worried," Gwen said, her voice muffled from where her face was pressed into his chest, "when Gwaine got back and you weren't with him..."

"I wasn't sure I would ever see you again," he admitted.

"What happened?" she asked, pulling away slightly so she could see his face and trailed her fingers gently down the faint scar that now ran from his temple to his cheek. "You're hurt."

"It's a long story. I'm all right and Emrys assures me my arm will heal in time. I'll tell you everything soon but there's something I have to do first."

Gwen raised a questioning brow but respected her husband's wishes; clearly he'd been through a lot and she knew he would confide in her as soon as he felt able.

The sound of someone calling his name caused Arthur to look around and almost instantly he found himself face-to-face with Gwaine.

"Arthur! You're back!" the knight said happily.

"It's good to see you, Gwaine," Arthur greeted, accepting the other man's outstretched arm and shaking it warmly. "I'm glad you made it back in one piece."

"So am I," Gwaine grinned. "Where's Merlin?"

And with that simple question, the dark-haired knight brought Arthur crashing back to reality. He was home and he was safe, yes, but his best friend was not. Nor would he ever be again. This time there was no excuse not to share the terrible news as there had been with Gaius, only Gwaine and Gwen's expectant faces. The news would be almost as devastating to his wife and knight as it would be to Gaius - after all, Merlin and Gwen had been close friends for as long as Merlin had been in Camelot and Arthur was not arrogant enough to believe Gwaine had hung around the borders of Camelot all those years ago for his sake. He'd stayed close by out friendship and loyalty to the servant, not his master. Now it was his duty to inform Merlin's friends of his death. Delivering the news of a brave man lost in battle was not new to Arthur; he was a warrior and in war, men died. He didn't like it but he accepted it. Never before though had the loss been so great or so personal; the image of his servant bleeding to death before his eyes was one he knew would haunt him all his days. God, he was barely able to deal with his own grief, how was he supposed to stay strong for those around him while they dealt with theirs?

Gwaine's expression became worried and Arthur could tell he had hesitated too long.

"Arthur, where's Merlin?" Gwaine asked softy, taking an anxious step forward.

"He - " Arthur faltered, his eyes welling with tears that he refused to shed. The king drew himself up and looked Gwaine straight in the eye - it was better to do it quickly now and deal with the pain later, than admit how heartbroken his servant's death had left him. "He didn't make it, Gwaine."

Gwen's horrified gasp tore at Arthur's heart and the shattered look on her face almost undid him but Gwaine's fist gripping the front of his stolen shirt drew his attention away from his wife.

"What do you mean 'He didn't make it'?" Gwaine demanded, "He was fine when I left the two of you."

"No, he wasn't," explained Arthur. "When he saved me during the ambush - I thought the blade had missed us both but..."

Gwaine shook his head furiously, "How could he have kept up with us if he was so badly injured?" The dark-haired knight cut across Arthur as he attempted to respond. "It was for you. He kept going for you, Arthur, to make sure you got back to Camelot safely," he removed his hand from the front of his king's shirt and viciously jabbed his fingers into the blond man's shoulder. "Everything that boy did was for you and you didn't even have the decency to bring him home. You disgust me." Gwaine held his gaze for a few angry seconds before he stalked off, furiously tearing the red cloak baring the Pendragon crest from his shoulders and flinging it aside.

Arthur watched him go, sorrow biting at him.

"He didn't mean it, Arthur," said Gwen, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

"Oh he did," Arthur assured her. "And he's right."

Broken and lost, Arthur turned away and walked defeated into his palace.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Apologies again for the long update time. **Starwater13** and **Guest**, thank you for your reviews! Looking forward tomorrow!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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As soon as they had deposited the wounded man on Merlin's bed, Gaius had dismissed the two knights that had escorted him to his chambers, waving aside their concerns about leaving him alone with a known sorcerer and murderer. Quickly, he realised that there was little or nothing that conventional medicine could do for his young ward and so, following a furtive glance at the door of Merlin's room, muttered some healing words in the Old Tongue and was both relived and gratified when the terrible wound to Merlin's shoulder showed instant improvement. He bound it with a healing poultice and fresh bandages and, knowing the boy would heal better and quicker if he was returned to his proper age, Gaius made the potion that would reverse his ward's aging spell. Within two hours, Merlin was back to his young self and well on the mend. The physician sat at Merlin's bedside for a while, mostly just keeping an eye on him, to ensure he did not take a turn for the worst but occasionally berating him softly for the worry he caused.

After a while, Gaius was satisfied that his surrogate son would live to explain why he'd returned eighty years old, thrown across Arthur's horse and with a fatal wound and went to start brewing a potion to help fix the paralysis Arthur was clearly suffering in his arm. He was in the middle of grinding rosemary into a fine powder with a pestle and mortar when the door to his chambers swung open and the King of Camelot strode in.

In the hours since Gaius had last seen him, the king had bathed and changed; his hair was still damp and the lack of dirt made the fresh scar on his face and the dark circles surrounding his red-rimmed eyes more obvious to see. To Gaius' mind, he had never looked more vulnerable or more noble. Gaius respectfully put aside his pestle and mortar and waited for Arthur to speak. Seconds ticked by and Arthur said nothing, although he evidently wanted to and the physician wondered what had happened to the young king that caused him such upset and anxiety.

"Can I help you with something, Sire?" he asked. "Something for your arm, perhaps?"

"Hmmm?" replied Arthur, glancing distractedly at his motionless limb. "No. Yes, if you have something. Emrys tried to heal it a few times - he said it would get better over time."

Gaius raised an eyebrow at the king's statement. Not only had Arthur allowed magic to be used on him, he believed a sorcerer's assurances that the damage was not permanent. What on earth had happened out there?

"I am working on potion now that should help to restore the blood flow," Gaius explained. "Do you have any feeling in it at all?"

"Yes, occasionally." Arthur drew a deep breath, "Gaius, I'm sorry, I didn't come here for medical attention."

"Then what do you need, Sire?" Gaius gestured at the closed door to Merlin's room. "Emrys is resting and I'm sure he will recover fully. Thankfully the wound was not as serious as it first appeared."

"You put him in Merlin's room?"

Gaius frowned. The king had never questioned where he placed his patients before. "Yes, Sire. All Emrys requires is rest and it will be easier for him to get it in Merlin's room than it will be out here. Merlin won't mind - he's slept on the floor often enough."

To Gaius' surprise Arthur looked stricken for an instant and glanced away sharply, before he raised his eyes and met the physician's gaze once more. Gaius was shocked to see moisture in the young king's eyes.

"Gaius, there is something I must tell you, but you should sit down."

"Sire?"

"Please, Gaius."

Confused beyond words, Gaius crossed the room and sat down, giving Arthur a look that said 'Well?'

"I'm sure you know that we were ambushed in the Forest of Bernicia," began Arthur.

"Yes, Sire. Gwaine told us you had been attacked by bandits and that only you, Merlin and he escaped," confirmed Gaius.

"That is almost right - although what Gwaine wouldn't know is that we were not attacked by bandits but by Odin's men. There were never to be any peace-talks between us; he planned the entire meeting so he could get me in his own country with a small escort and assassinate me but if myself or any of my men did live to tell the tale then we would believe it had been outlaws and Odin would have been free of suspicion."

"A clever plan," Gaius conceded grudgingly.

Arthur ignored him. "During the ambush, there was a moment when I was distracted and one of Odin's men saw the opportunity. He would have killed me, Gaius. There was nothing I could do, but Merlin shoved me out the way; I don't know how he got to me so quickly, he was on the other side of the clearing, but he did. He saved my life."

Gaius said nothing and waited for Arthur to continue. That Merlin had thrown himself into danger and saved the young king was not surprising, since Gaius knew his ward would willingly risk his life for his master without thought to his own; and that he had seemingly crossed a long distance in a short time was no mystery if you knew he had magic, though it was better to leave Arthur in the dark about that.

"We ran," Arthur continued. "Even after Gwaine left us, we kept running. And I didn't notice until the next morning..." Arthur trailed off. "I'm sorry, Gaius, it was only the next morning I realised that Merlin hadn't just shoved me out the way but he had also taken the blow meant for me."

"Sire?" Gauis asked confused. Surely, the king could not referring to the injury 'Emrys' had, he was oblivious to many things but not even Arthur would miss two allegedly different people having exactly the same wound, and Gaius knew for sure that his ward had no other injuries on his person.

"It was a bad wound, Gaius," the king continued as if the physician had not spoken, his voice little above a whisper and his haunted eyes downcast. "I did what I could but it wasn't enough..." Trailing off once more, Arthur hesitated and Gaius could see a battle going on in the king's mind. Suddenly, his eyes snapped back up the Gaius' and he straightened his back, stating formally, "It is with sorrow and regret that I must bring you news of the death of one you loved as a son; Merlin died a hero saving the life of his king and his sacrifice will not be forgotten."

The old physician stared at his king unable to fully comprehend what he was hearing. The vulnerability, the red eyes, so close to spilling over with tears, the haunted expression, they all made sense when given such a context. As much as Arthur pretended to be uncaring and hard, the truth was he cared deeply for his friends and family and the people under his protection - and there were few, if any, he cared for more than Merlin. So it made sense. Except it didn't. Because Merlin was asleep and very much alive in his own room, in his own bed.

"Are you sure, Arthur?"

Nodding sadly the king replied, "Yes. He...he wasn't alone, Gaius, I promise you. I was with him until the end."

It made no sense: Arthur was an experienced warrior; he may not be skilled in medicine and science, but he knew the difference between a dead man and a living one and he was not likely to make such a mistake where his best friend was concerned. Without a doubt however, Gaius knew Arthur believed what he was saying to be true. He would not make such a story up, nor would he repeat it if there was any question in his mind as to it's validity. That left two possibilities: either Merlin had somehow convinced Arthur he was dead, although why he would do this was a complete mystery, or the boy lying in Merlin's bed was not, despite appearances, Merlin.

"I...thank you for bringing me this news personally, my Lord," Gaius said slowly, "but I would ask for some privacy to come to terms with what you have told me."

Arthur bowed his head in assent, "Of course." Turning on his heel, the young king stepped into the corridor, pulling the door closed behind him but paused when it was half-way shut. "Odin will not get away with this," Arthur promised, not turning around. "There will be no peace between Camelot and Bernicia while Odin lives. You have my word."

And with that, he pulled the door closed behind him.

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**A/N: Please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: OK, wow! 14 reviews for one chapter! That is a personal record! Thanks to Mediatrix, H2OSorceress, ruby890, Ash9, jayley, Moss to Elephants (your comment about how much you've been looking forward to my updates was more than I could have hoped for!), Darkmiror (heh, I think we can see from S5, she's easily got 9 lives!), Felicity P, Lady Willamina, TraciaChoLeem and **Guests** for your very kind reviews!**

**So, I must first apologise for the length of time it's taken to update...but it's kind of your own fault - all your reviews made me realise that you were all wanting answers which I had not necessarily dealt with! As such, I've been writing a sequel, which you'll be pleased to hear is almost finished!**

**This is the penultimate chapter.**

**Oh, yes - how good were the first two episodes of Season 5?!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Warmth and comfort were the first sensations he felt as he slowly drifted back to consciousness. Warmth and comfort, followed by aching. He was sore everywhere but the worst was around his shoulder and chest, where there was a deep, burning ache. He opened his eyes but bright sunlight streaming through the window forced him to shut them again and turn his head to the side before trying again. His vision was still bleary but he recognised his own room easily enough and relief flooded through him; he was home. They'd made it.

Or had they? He remembered Morgana stabbing him but not very much beyond then. If he was back did that mean Arthur was back as well? He'd been at Morgana's mercy, and without magic, there was little Arthur could do against her. Panic bubbled up within him and he jumped out of bed, intent on finding his friend. Except the sudden movement was more than his battered body could take and for a moment he thought he was about to pass out. Grasping the cupboard by the door for support, Merlin groaned and waited for the dizziness to pass. As it did, he caught sight of his hands and realised they were back to normal, but he was sure he'd been disguised the whole time he'd been with Arthur.

_If Arthur knew I was 'Emrys', I'd have woken up in the cells not here._

Pulling the door to his room open, he stumbled down the steps and into the main room. Gaius stood by his work bench, swirling a clear liquid around in a glass jar impatiently but at the sound of Merlin leaving his room, he looked up from his project.

"Merlin?" Gaius said, putting the glass jar down and approaching him cautiously.

"Gaius!" replied the warlock, grinning happily. He had thought he might never see his mentor and surrogate father again - he never would have if it had not been for...He skipped away from that line of thought and pulled Gaius into a hug. "It's so good to see you!"

The old man returned his hug before stepping back and looking up at him, his eyes searching. "Is it really you, my boy?"

"What?" Merlin frowned in bemusement, "Yes, of course it's me! Is Arthur here? Did he make it back?"

Nodding sagely, Gaius gestured to the table. "He's well enough. Sit down and have something to eat. How do you feel?"

Merlin, his legs feeling watery, staggered unsteadily to the table and sank down gratefully on the closest stool. "Like I was trampled by a horse," he replied, as his guardian placed a plate of chicken and bread in front of him, which he began to dig into eagerly.

"That's understandable. You're lucky to be alive, you'd lost a lot of blood by the time Arthur brought you back here," explained Gaius, sitting opposite his ward. "Why does Arthur think you are dead?"

Merlin paused mid-bite, guilt washing through him. "Because I, er, died?" he smiled nervously.

"I don't understand. Then how are you here? How did you come to be disguised as an old man, slung over Arthur's horse?" demanded Gaius. "He came in here two days ago and told me how you had died protecting him in an ambush, all the while I knew you were asleep in your room! I've had Gwen and the knights coming down and offering their sympathies..." he stopped, realising that he had started ranting.

"I'm sorry, Gaius," said Merlin sincerely. "That is what happened. But...someone stopped me on my way to Avalon, they told me Arthur had been taken by Odin's men and that Odin was going to kill him. I couldn't let that happen Gaius! I knew I needed to come back but I couldn't. They, she, offered her life for mine and I took it."

Gaius shook his head in wonder. "You Mirrored life and death on your way to Avalon? Truly, I have never met another like you, my boy."

His appetite lost, Merlin pushed the plate away. How could he explain to Gaius that he hated the choice he'd had to make, hated the fact that he would make that choice again, that he would choose Arthur over everyone and everything, no matter how precious they were to him? It was not amazing or fascinating, it was monstrous.

"Why did you use the aging spell, then?" asked Gaius, oblivious to his ward's inner turmoil.

"Because I needed magic to rescue Arthur and I can't...I didn't want to have to come up with some excuse about why I was alive." Slowly he began to explain what had happened since he returned alive, well-buried under rocks, while Gaius listened patiently and with interest. When he finished his mentor reached over and covered his hand with his own, patting it gently.

"You've done very well," Gaius assured him proudly, "and once that shoulder has healed sufficiently, then you'll be able to tell Arthur you're alive without fear of him connecting you to Emrys."

Merlin frowned. "Tell Arthur I'm alive?"

"Of course," said Gauis, raising an eyebrow. "You can't honestly be thinking of letting him continue to believe you're dead?"

"You don't understand, Gaius!" exclaimed Merlin. "He's so close to trusting Emrys, to considering to possibility that magic is not inherently evil...If I could just talk to him some more, show him how much I can help him, I really think he'll listen this time!"

"Right now, the only person Arthur is listening to is himself." Gaius stated, his tone annoyed. "Gwen's been to see me a few times whilst you were resting and she tells me that he never goes out, barely eats, and rarely sleeps. He spends his whole time pouring over maps of Odin's kingdom and planning the war. She says she can't get through to him, that he is consumed with anger and thoughts of revenge. But not for himself, Merlin, for you."

Destiny. It ruled him, yet it was a fickle master, mapping out his life at one turn and casting him adrift at the other. It was his destiny to free magic and here was his chance - Arthur had been willing to talk to him, listen to what he said, and Merlin could tell he was beginning to doubt Uther's stance on magic. But could he allow his friend to grieve over him for the sake of such a destiny?

"What if this is my destiny, Gaius?" Merlin asked desperately. "What if this is my last chance?"

"Merlin, Arthur is a broken man because he thinks you are dead," said Gaius emphatically. "You have never been cruel or selfish but that it was you will be if you do not tell him you are alive. It cannot be your destiny to leave him like this, because like this, he is not Arthur! Arthur craves peace not war, he believes in justice not vengeance, but that has changed with your 'death'. He plans to kill Odin and he will destroy anyone and anything that stands in his way. Surely you cannot want this?"

"No, I don't," replied Merlin with a heavy sigh. "I'll tell him as soon as I can."

Destiny would have to wait.

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**A/N: Please review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: So here we go, guys: the last chapter! Hope you all enjoy it! Firstly though, I must say thank you to **Vuurvlieg**, **MerlinStar**, **Mediatrix** (you'll be pleased to know I've posted the 1st chapter of the sequel! And episode three was fantastic - loved every moment of it!), **ruby890**, **Phoenix1998**, **jayley**, **rmatri540**, **FunusNex** (good guess!), and **Darkmiror** (wow, thanks for the long review! Really enjoyed it! Hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. As for S5, I know what you mean but I really like that they are trying to show exactly how far Merlin is willing to go to protect Arthur now...I'm always willing to chat about Merlin, so if you want, PM me!)**

**Episode 3 was one of the most awesome things I've seen in a long while! If they keep the quality this high for the whole season, I hope they get a sixth!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, the BBC on the other hand, owns the lot.**

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Maps were spread across the table, some had been marked, others placed to the side out of the way, but one was more dog-eared and used than the others. It was a map of Odin's fortress and the surrounding landscape, special because it was highly detailed. Drawn in Arthur's grandfather's time by Lorgan the Traitor, who had left Bernicia to sell her secrets for gold, it gave the layout of the castle, the defensive strong points and where the weaknesses lay. Although Arthur knew of one weakness that Odin would not have time to repair completely before the army of Camelot came to his door: the hole Emrys had blasted out the side of the dungeons.

The plan was a simple one but Arthur was sure it would be successful. He would leave a hundred men to garrison Camelot and take the rest of the army south, it was unlikely that Odin would choose to meet him on the open battlefield when his castle was so hard to reach. He had only to raise the drawbridge and it would be impossible for Arthur's men to breach the defenses. But their isolation was both their strength and their weakness, although they had vast food storage and a direct supply of water from the river that surrounded them, a prolonged siege would be impossible for them to survive, even if a siege of such length was usually almost as hard on the attackers as it was on the defenders because supplies were hard to maintain across a distance. But the plan was simple. He would burn every village, every town and every field in Odin's kingdom, without food or homes the refugees would seek safety in the capital, or even in some of the other, smaller fortresses that dotted Odin's country, either way, the extra mouths would deplete the food stores dramatically. Camelot's army however, would be supplied by a series of convoys directly from Camelot itself.

His conscience bothered him slightly at such extreme measures but he quashed such thoughts. He did not want to make innocents suffer, he took no pleasure in it, but the ends justified the means. Odin would not be allowed to continue to threaten his kingdom and the only way to achieve victory quickly with minimal losses to his army was to obliterate any chance of the defenders surviving a siege.

Sighing, Arthur pushed the map of Bernicia to the side. Before he could begin to organise the whole campaign, there was something he had to do, a promise he had to keep. He had already chosen which of his knights would accompany him and planned exactly what he was going to say to Hunith but still he had not left to keep his promise to his servant. Mostly because he was hoping Emrys would wake up before he left, there were some issues he wanted to discuss with the crazy sorcerer, but he was partly putting the visit off. He didn't want to have to tell another person, least of all Merlin's mother, how he had failed to protect his friend.

The door of his chambers swung open violently and Gwaine strode in. The knight's chainmail was gone, his hair was unkempt and he reeked of sweat and ale. It was unsurprising - the man hadn't been seen outside the Rising Sun since Arthur had told him of Merlin's death; what was surprising though, was he appeared to be completely sober.

"What is wrong with you?" Gwaine demanded, looming over Arthur's desk.

The king leaned back to put some distance between him and the tavern that was Gwaine. "Wrong with me?" he asked incredulously.

"You tell us that Odin may have sent patrols into Camelot, that the peace talks were nothing but a ploy to kill you and now I hear that you're off out for another jolly!" the knight banged his fist against the table, "Merlin died to get you home and now you're just going to spit on his memory by going and getting yourself killed?"

"If you had bothered to actually step out the tavern, Gwaine, you would know I'm going to Ealdor to see Merlin's mother." Gwaine opened his mouth to respond, paused and shut it again. "Is there anything else you wanted?" Arthur asked, looking pointedly at the door.

"I want to come with you."

"No." replied Arthur, standing up and going to the window.

"Why not?"

"Because you look and smell like you've spent the last three days in a tavern."

"I have."

"Yes, I know. I gave Merlin my word I would tell his mother what happened personally and I'm not going to insult the poor woman by showing up dragging you in tow."

"I'll have a bath," Gwaine promised. "Please, Arthur, I need to do this. He was my closest friend and I didn't even notice he was injured. I owe him everything I have now and I failed him when it counted most."

That guilt was something Arthur could easily relate to. It was always just at the back of his mind, the thought he should have done something, tried harder, noticed that Merlin was wounded. But he hadn't and that was something he would have to live with for the rest of his life, keeping his word would do nothing to alleviate it, but if it would help Gwaine come to terms with his friend's death then he had no right to stop him.

"Take a bath," Arthur said, waving at the door, "Stay out the taverns."

"Thank you!"

"And Gwaine," the knight paused at the door, "I'm only taking Knights of Camelot with me."

Bowing his head slightly, Gwaine replied: "Yes, Sire."

He was replaced in the doorway by a young, nervous-looking guard. "My lord?" the boy asked tentatively.

"Yes? What is it?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sire, but Gaius asks you go to his chambers as soon as you are able. He says it's urgent."

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Arthur opened the door to Gaius' rooms and stepped inside. The old man was pacing impatiently back and forth but when he saw the king, he stopped and hurried over.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Sire."

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Sire. You should know that Emrys awoke a few hours ago."

"Where is he?" Arthur asked, looking around as if he expected Emrys to appear at any moment.

"I'm afraid he left not long after he awoke, Sire."

"What? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you stop him, Gaius?"

"I hardly think, Sire, that I am capable of stopping Emrys even if I wanted to," Gaius raised a offended eyebrow, "Besides, I was not aware he was under arrest."

Suitably chastened, Arthur drew a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. "You're right, of course, Gaius. He's free to come and go as he wishes."

Somehow Gaius' eyebrow rose even higher. "Is he really?" Not waiting for a response he continued, "Before he left, he said he had one more gift for you, to prove his loyalty."

Before Arthur could ask what exactly this 'gift' was, the door to Merlin's room opened and Arthur watched dumbfounded as his servant jogged down the steps. Arthur stood rooted to the spot unable to believe his eyes. It was more than he could process. Merlin was dead and nothing could bring him back and yet there he was. Alive and looking a little unsure of himself. But it couldn't be...

"Arthur?" Merlin said tentatively.

The sound of his name shook him out of his inertia and he took a step forwards. "Merlin?"

"Hey Arthur," responded his servant, grinning.

The young king started laughing, unable hide his joy at seeing his friend alive. All the times he had wished he could have done something different, that he could have prevented the young man being injured, or somehow reached Camelot in time to save him, the guilt had nearly suffocated him and his only relief was to focus his attention on revenge against the man who had caused his death. But here he stood, grinning like an fool, as if he had never been away, never been the cause of such pain and loss. It was impossible. It was the happiest moment of Arthur's life.

"You...I...You idiot!" he exclaimed affectionately and before he'd even registered his legs moving, he was across the room and pulling the younger man into a crushing hug.

"It's great to see you too, Arthur," Merlin chuckled, "But could you try not suffocating me?"

Arthur pushed his friend away slightly, looked him in the eye and started laughing again before pulling him back for another quick hug. After a moment, he released Merlin and turned to Gaius. "How is this possible?"

Gaius shook his head, a slight smile on his face. "I do not fully understand myself, Sire. To return the dead to the living is not an easy thing to achieve."

Arthur looked between Gaius and Merlin, found himself grinning inanely and not caring. "You know, this once, I really don't care." He punched Merlin in the arm happily, "How do you feel?"

"Fine," Merlin grumbled, rubbing his arm, "Why is it always punching with you?"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur said happily, not meaning it and slung his arm across his friend's shoulders. "Come on. There are a lot of people who are going to be very happy to see you! And after that, you have a lot of chores to catch up on: my armour needs cleaning, my boots need polishing and well, let's just say Gwen will kill me if our chambers don't get tidied soon."

Merlin allowed himself to be led out the room, with a backwards glance at Gaius. "So I come back from the dead and all I get is to polish your amour?"

"You're my servant, Merlin, it's what you do," Arthur explained patiently, "What do you expect? A feast?"

"And you're an arrogant, insensitive, supercilious turnip-brain," replied Merlin, "But I live in eternal hope you'll change."

"Merlin?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up."

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Slowly opening her eyes, Morgana became aware of a dull ache in her stomach, soft pillows below her head, warmth at her feet and a pair of piercing blue eyes. Familiar blue eyes.

"Mordred," she sighed.

The young boy patted her hand, comfortingly. "It's good to see you again, Morgana. Do not worry, I have healed your injury and you will feel better soon. What happened to you?"

The memory burned in Morgana's mind. She had defeated Emrys, both he and Arthur had been at her mercy but somehow, Emrys had thwarted her even when he was at her mercy.

"Emrys," she said venomously, "He plagues my every waking moment. All my plans crumble to dust before him."

Laughing quietly, Mordred gently pushed Morgana back down on the bed. "You fail Morgana because you do not know who you face."

"But you do?" she asked eagerly, "You know who he is?"

Mordred's smile turned cruel. "Oh yes. I know _exactly_ who Emrys is."

THE END

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**A/N: There we have it! The first chapter of the sequel, Revealed Truths, is up now, if you fancy heading over there and carrying on the story! Please review!**


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